A Whateley Academy story

A Brief Personal History of my Summer Mutation

by

Nagrij

Part 7

Sidestory – The Good Ol’ Boys

I stood on the bed of my old battered Ford F-150 and surveyed the troops. The floodlights and high beams littered around the lot made it harder, but what I saw couldn't help to bring a smile on.

There had to be a hunnert guys here, all with signs. A few bull horns to get the message across - and a few other things in case things got nasty. The rifles had been stripped from the gun racks, so that was one less reason for the cops to get uppity.

Stupid cops, wouldn't arrest the real menace. Our god given first amendment would put some pressure on them. The people would thank us, they probably didn't even know about the monster in their midst.

The law to inform the public about students who had the power to slaughter had been narrowly beaten last year. It was up again soon, and I had no doubt it would pass.

But until it passed, it was up to guys like me and my friends to pick up the slack. There had to be a bunch of hardworking Americans that knew about the danger, but didn't know how close it was.

I had to give the family credit really, the kid had been active for awhile, and only the neighbors had a complaint in... over some kind of jury-rigged vehicle blocking the street or something. My friend hadn't been able to smuggle the entire complaint out.

Just the report where nothing was done about it.

I kept it simple: "You know why we're here, and what we need to do. Let's be about it, and let's keep it peaceful."

It wouldn't stay peaceful, of course. My guys were in the crowd, and they knew how to start a fight while making the other guys look like they started it.

The cheer started when I stepped off the truck bed and it was clear I wouldn't say anything else. It was just that easy.

I got behind the wheel and waited. I wasn't going to start the engine before we were all lined up, and I was in the place of honor.

A beer sounded very good about now, but I didn't want to get arrested, so the coke in my cup holder would have to do. It was a hot day.

I drank half before the ready honk sounded and we were finally free to get the show on the road. Even with carpooling, there were a good twenty vehicles in our convoy. The twenty best vehicles we all possessed. I kept us under the limit and the drivers were following the orders to keep us spread out - they didn't want the state troopers to have reason to take notice either.

The little hamlet was only a few miles away, and almost all of the land along the way to the town were farms. I knew more than a few of them personally, real salt of the Earth people. We had coffee in the same diner every day.

Well, at least for the first mile. The farmers past that might well be salt of the Earth, but they took their coffee in the Paris diner, and my own coffee friends often had a few bones to pick with them. But no, I had to be calm and objective here. The group wouldn't reimburse anything else, and while the money wasn't what we did it for, it was welcome.

I took the turn off, easy as you please, but had to stop. My stomach dropped into my boots. Why was there a roadblock here? How could there be a roadblock here, less than a mile from the exit? Wasn't that illegal? Our convoy just barely cleared the exit, which was a small blessing.

I could just spot the spike strips in the grass behind the cars. The local police cars, which had no jurisdiction until we hit the town sign. We wouldn't be going around them, and they could deny spiking the road if asked. I guess that was clever.

I rolled down my window as one of the four uniformed cops approached. Wasn't this their entire force? The name above his badge said "Myles", and he was tall. Taller than I was, and with more muscle on him besides. His rolled up sleeves barely fit over guns that a pro wrestler would be proud of. Clayton Myles was the sheriff, come to think of it.

"What seems to be the problem, officer?"

"License and registration, please?"

Oh, he was really going to do this, this way? "Sure."

I grabbed the paperwork and handed it over; I'd had it ready just in case. The other three cops had taken up position behind their cars... and I could see the shotguns held in loose grips.

"So, what seems to be the problem, officer?" I asked again.

He looked up from my license and gave me a gimlet eye. "Got word of a humanity first protest headed our way."

Who had tipped them off?

"Funny thing about that," the sheriff continued. "To protest in Paris, one needs to contact our city hall in advance and fill out form D-18, otherwise known as an event form, at least two weeks in advance. Only one of those forms have been filled out in the last month, and it wasn't by humanity first.

He cast a glance in the truck bed, no doubt looking for guns and only seeing the signs I made in there.

"Who was it filled out by, if I may ask?"

"The Campbell family."

What the... the very family we were here to protest, unless there was another. Campbell was a pretty common name after all.

"Well, if that's an event, can we go to it?" I had to keep the smile off my face, but damn I was clever.

"It's by invitation only," the sheriff said, cool as could be. "and you don't have invitations."

He handed my registration and license back. "I'm going to need you all to turn around and go back to where you came from."

How dare he!?! "We have the right to peacefully assemble in any public place we please."

"Sure... just so long as you fill out form D-18 two weeks in advance, as required by local law," the man grinned wide. "It allows us to allocate the resources to protect you should something happen. State police tend to require notice to help local police, and in the event of a protest in today's day and age... well I'd want the backup. It's for your own safety, you understand?"

I understood. I could launch a legal challenge, but that wouldn't get us in the town today, and we might even lose. It was a slick argument.

"So, you've got room, and you don't need to worry about cross traffic. I'm going to have to ask you all to turn around and go back home. It's a nice day, go enjoy it - and come back on Monday bright and early to file that paperwork."

As if, I was a working man, and even if I wasn't they weren't going to rubber stamp any form I made. Someone knew who I was, someone had tipped the cops off, and it was clear they did not share the views of the rest of us.

I pasted my best smile on my face and hung my arm out the door and made circles with it. "Sure officer. See you on Monday."

I had to back up just a bit before turning, but I got around. There was more than one way to skin a cat.

Once I was sure we weren't being followed I pulled off onto the first of the rural routes. The convoy followed of course. From here, I could us the binocs in my glove compartment to see the off ramp - as long as I stood on my truck. It wasn't like I cared about getting boot prints on it.

The cops were still there... but that was fine. It just meant this wouldn't be a cakewalk.

"Billy-Joe."

I looked to find my right hand man and best friend had approached, when no one else had. They were busy milling around and whispering among themselves.

"Harry. The cops are still there."

"Right."

"Which means they aren't anywhere else."

The light dawned behind Harry's eyes. "Right... so then we can go around, take the back way. They can't have cops everywhere."

"Right. So we wait a bit, make sure they are staying put, then you lead us along the route. You know it a bit better than I do."

I waited, letting the others talk. Then when I was sure they were staying, I waited another five minutes before jumping down.

"Alright, back in the cars! Harry's going to lead us down another route. We aren't done yet!"

It took awhile for the others to get situated and going, and Harry almost didn't wait, taking off down the road I pulled off with confidence. I knew this route crossed rural 300, but rural North 300 would probably be flooded now; the road was unpaved trash.

Harry drove past North 300 without so much as a glance. Well, that was why he was leading now. He drove on, to where the road intersected another unpaved road. Rural North 500. Rural North 500 however, had gravel and an old stone bridge across the creek that floods late summer. All of which should be good enough, if not for the fact that as far as I knew North 500 had no way into Paris. Unless of course we took the road all the way across and found the town from the other side.

That was Harry's plan, it seemed. Right up until he skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust.

Once the cloud thinned I could see why Harry stopped. In the distance, right at the outlet for 500, was a single car. A single car that I could tell was black and white.

My binoculars came in handy again; it was a cop car, and there were two uniformed deputies on the other side of it. They were alert, and I was fairly sure they weren't any of the cops at the off ramp. As I watched, one of them pulled out a radio mic.

"Got another idea, Harry?"

"Yep. we ain't licked yet. But this is kinda crazy; how many cops does Paris have, anyway?"

"Too many it seems. More than we do with almost twice their population." Sure Paris was rich... but there was rich, then there was wasteful. Something was off, here. Something beyond the Parisians keeping to themselves more than most. Not that we wanted them at the festival anyway, but it was odd most of them never came.

They had festivals of their own, but they didn't advertise them much. I'd thought something was off about it for years, but it was just the way it'd always been to the old timers.

I had to be patient. "Alright, everyone turn around, we're headed back the other way."

I turned back to Harry. "We are headed back the other way, aren't we?"

Harry grinned, showing off how few teeth he had. "Yep, but not all the way. I took North 500 for a reason."

I let Harry take the lead again, racking my brains. What could he be talking about? The closest intersection was East 350, but that was a dead end. So was East 400. East 500 was just on the other end of the cops. East 300 suffered from a lack of pavement and often floods.

Harry drove off past the shallow ditch and into the flat grass on the side of the road, and I followed. We all just pulled a slow loop.

Harry pulled off onto East 350, which meant their had to be something here. Minutes later, just before he hit the end of the road, he pulled off... into a driveway. The name on the mailbox had half fallen off, but the 'ythe' of Smythe was still visible. Smythe was Harry's last name, so the place had to belong to relatives of his.

The long winding drive was in better shape than the road itself, despite being dirt. It was also overgrown a bit, which meant that no one was here, or had been here for some time.

Harry reached the house and kept going, out past the other side. The road kept going too, stretching out under his battered but beloved car without a break. It led us out, and to the other side of East 300, where the road again opened up under us with farms to either side.

I'd have never known the route was here. The chances were, no one else knew it was here either, and the road was just passable enough for us all to get through. I rolled down the window again; it was best to enjoy the breeze and sounds of nature while I could. In almost no time at all even taking it easy, we were on the outskirts of Paris.

But it seemed as if we'd been anticipated once again. This time, there was a semi parked where the street opened up onto pavement. Whoever had parked it here had left just enough room for us to turn around in the small cul-de-sac, but otherwise this was as far as our vehicles could go.

Unless we got a little tricky. I pulled forward and turned, but then climbed out. If they thought a little hike would stop me, they had another think coming. The semi was locked, and I could see an alarm set right on the seat of it, mocking me. That was fine.

I waited until half of us were turned around, and the other half were set to do so. Ed handled it; and he was good at this sort of stuff. He worked for roads and sanitation, so it was his job.

There, that house. I could see the blinds twitch. There was a car in the driveway of the house too. The two story brick house with white trim looked like a place that cost more than two of mine.

"We have a choice before us, ladies and gents. We can go back around and look for another route. Or we can unload here and march to our destination, Paris city hall! Who is with me!?!?"

I didn't really need to ask of course; they were all with me. Every one a true believer, and in it for the long haul. That and the money of course.

As expected, they cheered. Some of them even raised their signs, which was a good reminder.

"Grab your signs and let's go!"

I set off, humming some tune or other, and everyone else fell in. Harry fell in beside me, of course. "You sure this is a good idea?"

"We got people filming, so of course it is. The cops here stop us, well, we will go back - and then the story will be all about how five cops violated the civil rights of several peaceful champions of humanity."

The light dawned. "That's... almost as good as if we don't get interrupted."

"No, it's better," I corrected. "at least for the movement. If the police let us protest, then that's fine. But if they turn us away, then we not only know this town is poison, but everyone else will too."

"Win-win!" Harry ground out, chuckling.

"All about the winning - and us little guys win too, just by being along for the ride." Maybe one day I could afford a brick house with white trim of my own, rather than my wooden shack.

The first block, there was no one around. The second block was clear too. On a day like today that was a bit unusual. Maybe not for having townspeople at another event though; a small blessing perhaps.

Some cars passed us once we hit their main street. They kept going; soon enough we were at the courthouse. There were no cars in the lot. Which meant there were no police cars in the lot.

No one around - maybe this wasn't the right place to have our fun. Where would the party be? At the park, maybe? Outside the school maybe? The school would be a fitting place - but we really needed some kind of resistance here, otherwise our hidden camera guy would have nothing to show.

"Rusty. Cleve."

The two I''d singled out marched up. They didn't quite salute, but I could tell they wanted to. They stayed silent too, which made me happy. The boss had trained them well.

"Both of you leave your signs here. Rusty, I want you to go to the park... it's that way and take a left two blocks down. Cleve, I want you to head to the school. Its all the way down at the end. See if there are any people there, then come back to us."

"Yes sir!"

"Got it."

Not quite the response I was looking for. More training was always needed.

Both my true soldiers went off, going the same direction yet on opposite sidewalks, in order to appear less suspicious. That didn't really work until their pace split them up.

"Problem?" Harry asked.

I hated explaining things. "The cops might not know we're here."

Harry shrugged. "They are all out watching the roads. They will get called eventually."

"I want to know where the family is - where the kid is. Something is going on, and I'm curious."

The kid worried me; how could she not? What was she doing now? What sort of abomination against good science had she built?

The boss was right; her kind were dangerous. It was only a matter of time before they built bombs or other tools of war. Tools that humanity was hard-pressed to counter.

Meanwhile I raised my sign, and we began to picket. The chant was "Not without notice! Not in our schools!" I wasn't very proud of it, but it got the message across. They can't all be deep poetry.

We were loud enough with the bullhorns. It only took ten minutes for us to hear the sirens. That was a pretty good response time.

The two cars that had been at the exit pulled up in a hurry, parking haphazardly. The sheriff almost jumped out of the car, his deputies right behind him. They all had hands firmly on their pistols.

"I thought I told you that you wouldn't be demonstrating today." The Sheriff said calmly as the veins in his neck bulged. There was anger, but no fear in the man at all; he waded right into us until he stood in front of me.

"You might have said words to that effect," I admitted calmly. "However this is still a free country, and the first amendment guarantees it'll stay that way."

"No, the second amendment guarantees the freedom of the country, the first amendment only guarantees it can be vocal. Here is how this is going to work. I am going to write you a citation. You are going to take it, find your cars, and leave. If you do anything but that, you will be arrested and held on charges of disturbing the peace and unlawful assembly. Those charges would include jail time that will certainly violate the probation of some of your friends. Do you understand?"

I held out my hands. "Sure I get it. You're more worried about my freedom of speech than the safety of your kids."

The Sheriff's eyes narrowed, then shifted. He was looking for the camera, and not seeing it. With a sigh, he pulled out his ticket book and wrote one out.

Seven hundred and fifty dollars and in my name alone - holy shit that had to be the max. He was really pissed at me.

I took the ticket carefully, folded it, and put it in my back pocket. This wasn't ideal, but it was enough, and we could make it better.

"Our cars are over by the Smythe place, in that cul-de-sac."

"Alright, get going. We'll just make sure you don't get lost." The Sheriff replied.

I signaled our boys and we set off... still chanting at the top of our lungs. They really couldn't arrest us all, at least not without backup from state, and the Sheriff and I both knew he wasn't getting that. At least not anytime soon.

We really should have marched like this on the way in. Oh well.

There were a few people now, in front of their houses or along the streets. Many of those people were visibly armed. My grandma, what a big shotgun you have. A sawed off with a barrel length illegal in this state. I looked to the Sheriff only to find him ignoring it, along with the other guns not quite pointed our way.

Something was off in this town.

Some few of the people - the ones with only a little gray in their hair and straight backs - joined the march, taking up flanking positions on either side without being in range of easy grabbing. There were no cars coming down the road on this trip, when there had been before.

Did everyone in town know we were here? Probably; but why were they acting on it, and why like this? The Sheriff didn't look worried at all, even when the people around us began to outnumber his men. It was as if he already knew which way they would swing, should this come to violence.

He shouldn't know that, unless everyone in town shared the same opinion. No town in America did that, so why was he just watching us?

We reached the cul-de-sac... and the semi truck was moved, parked off to the side. A big burly man that was taller than I was by a head and must have had a good fifty pounds on me, a good portion of it beard, was standing in front of it with his arms crossed. He could only be the owner.

He stared us down as if looking at bugs.

There were others around too, looking a bit more normal, if normal was reedy white collar looking types. Somehow they didnt look like normal office workers - their gazes were too hard, too sharp. I'd seen that look before in experienced fighters sizing you up before you got in the ring.

My own gaze told me I had no chance, not in a straight up fight, guns aside. All together we might be able to do something, but today wasn't about violence.

We would have to be careful though, later on. I'd have to pass a few things up the chain.

"Alright. Everyone go to your cars, but do not get in them. You are all illegally parked, and will be getting tickets to take home with you. You can contest them of course, or pay the fine. If you choose to contest them, you call the number on the ticket and a court date will come in the mail. If you have any questions you can ask when we get to you."

Judging from the looks, there were going to be a few questions, but overall the boys were taking it well. They knew even if the charges stuck they wouldn't have a problem paying.

The Sheriff filled mine out, and passed it over. "Sign on the dotted line there."

Seventy-five bucks was pretty normal... I signed and he ripped my copy out of his book, then went along. His deputies had picked spots in the line to work from, and in less time than I'd hoped, they'd gotten to us all. The good news was Rusty and Cleve had both come here in other people's rides, so they hadn't been scooped up just yet.

"Alright, now all of you get back in your cars. We'll escort you out of town, and I don't want to see you back without permission by the city council to demonstrate. Do you all understand? I see you back here with signs spouting shit, and no form D-18, you're all going to county for six months."

"We got it Sheriff, thanks. Lead on, we'll be right behind you."

Their blues rolled up then... with regular people driving. The Sheriff had let civilians drive his car? Had just left the keys in, and these people were good for it? Somethin was off about this town.

The Sheriff got in his wheels, the deputies in theirs, and the regular people stepped off. He led us out, and as I promised I was right behind him. We made quite the sight, I was sure. The truck moved behind us, this time blocking the driveway we'd used to enter town.

There, what was that? Another convoy, just leaving, in the opposite direction. They turned off ahead of us, but all that did was give me a good view of the battered truck hauling a tarp covered trailer, with kids in the back.

That had to be the Campbells.

My steering wheel creaked, reminding me I needed to loosen up. It wouldn't do to jump the gun. Slow and steady won the race. I fixed my smile and kept the course, waiting until we were out of that town and well on our way home before venting a bit where there was no one to hear.

The chapter house was a little hole in the wall, the final partition of a strip mall. It used to be a hair salon, and still had the sinks in the back where the hair washing was done before the big dryer bowls were put on. I liked to imagine the old ladies coming here on Sunday after church and gossiping about stupid shit; it made the problems we were facing today look like nothing at all. Simpler times, and all that.

From the outside, there was only one concession given; the H1 logo on the reinforced plate window. The inside was a different story; aside from the counter with all the brochures, our pictures were everywhere. We had a lot to be proud of, after all; we were at the forefront of human rights.

But for now the best thing about the place was the three kegs in the corner, sweating off their chill and freshly delivered by the boss while we were gone. I grabbed the plastic cups we had for this very purpose and drew the first one, then picked one of the less rickety chairs to sit in.

Franky came up, his hand out. "A success, of sorts. Congratulations."

We shook and I palmed the thumb drive he'd had, dropping it in my pocket while no one was looking.

Well Franky had the camera, so he got the bad job. "Do me a favor? Stay sober so you can pick up our two missing if they call?"

Franky sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Alright, but you'll owe me some of this later," he said, his arm waving to cover the beer and pretzels.

"Sure thing. Your pick of brand, too." It was the least I could do.

Well, now I had to get up again. Franky fucked off to sit by our landline, which would be the number either of our friends would call if they got caught or needed a ride, and took the route to my tiny office.

The envelopes were in the drawer, next to the spare thumb drives. I grabbed two of the drives and stuck them in the laptop I'd been given, then slotted the one in my pocket. I barely understood this crap, but a mistake here would ruin everything, and leaving it to someone more tech savvy didn't sit right with me.

I wanted to fire the shot that sank that kid myself.

I dragged the files where they needed to go and started the copies. Then I addressed the envelopes. Finally, I made a copy for the computer itself and then highlighted the drives before hitting the eject button. The tech guys had been most clear on that one, that it was a common mistake.

Then I had to copy the laptop's copy again, and send it to a site which was all numbers, and that I had to type in laboriously by hand, and then delete from the browser history.

I looked up to find my beer empty and almost an hour gone. Going back out, I saw that the first keg was long gone, and the second was well on its way, so I got in line.

Tomorrow we'd see that kid on the five-o-clock news, even if we were the ones on camera.

The VHS player whirred, the scene shown flowing backwards for just over a minute before allowing it to flow forward again.

On the screen, a blue-haired girl emerged from the tent centered in the frame, dressed in a pilot's suit that appeared to be two sizes too large, with a helmet held under an arm. Her eyes unfocused as several flashes went off, the main culprit being a brown haired girl with a smile that covered half her face. She says a few words, the sound of which did not reach, and the other girl sighs.

Then the blue-green haired girl takes a step forward, and finds the camera. Even the look of surprise does little to lessen the obvious joy on her face, and in her stride. She waved at the camera itself.

Pause. Whirr....

The room was dark, almost pitch black. The only light was from the television screen. The only way someone could navigate the space was from memory. He stepped forward, finally removing his hand from pistol at his side.

"Honey."

A shape shifted; a lump uncoiled itself from the darkened sofa, and the tape began again.

A hand pointed to the screen as he sat beside her. "There. Right there. You see it too, right?"

Once seated he leaned into her, his arms wrapping around the blanket she had over her. "I saw it, yes. She's happy. Very happy."

"We never should have let her do this."

He added some bite. "She did every thing we asked her to do. She even waited long enough to take the test for her pilot's license. To pull that rug out from under her when she's already feeling the stress from complying would alienate her."

His life partner gave an explosive sigh and hugged him back, through the blanket. He elected not to notice a few extra bends that made such a thing possible.

"Thank you for recording this."

"It was the least I could do since you had to work."

She snorted. "That's another thing. She waited too well; at least she was honest about it after."

He shrugged, just enough so that she could feel it - her eyes were still on the tape, fixated on a dot piercing the clouds. "That's a very kid thing to do, and something we set up a long time ago. We should be happy it worked."

Another snort. "I still think I should have been the lenient one. I make the better chaperone."

"Not a chance - you know what a softie I am. Besides, you lost the coin toss." He had to remind himself she meant nothing by it. She was the tougher of the two of them, after all, and they both knew it.

"How long do you think it'll take?"

He pretended to think. "Maybe a week. We already had the first probe today. Give them a week to organize and wait for the heat to die down, and they'll be back. Do we tell the bots?"

"No, if it gets that far, let's see what those things are able to pick up, and what they do. It'll be a good test for them."

He swallowed his next words. He really was too soft - it was best they learn the capabilities of their firstborn's guardians now, while the kid gloves were still on. He really was a softie. "Well, it shouldn't be too difficult yet."

His partner turned, the relief from the lighting finally revealing the shed tears tracking her beautiful face. "She won't always be like this. It'll get worse. We won't be able to shelter her forever."

He hugged her closer. "Long as we can, hon. We hold that line as long as we can."

* * * * *

I woke up still on cloud nine... maybe I should have named that cloud nine? A smile not even Jeanette could ruin with her gentle ministrations and staring at me in the shower. Not even Monday could ruin this.

I got out after only a few minutes and got dressed. My brother was yawning into my face as soon as I opened the door, so I passed him and went downstairs to find Jeeves had made a breakfast worthy of kings - homemade waffles cooked with our waffle iron. Complete with strawberries. I settled down and grabbed my fork, taking in Jeeves smile and wave before I realized something was wrong.

Where was Mom? Where was Dad? Usually at lease one of them were around on weekday mornings, if not both. So we were down at least one parent.

Jeeves was being quiet, and so was Jeanette. Jeanette was drying my hair with a towel, and not the hair dryer. Both were making effort to walk differently - to make less noise?

"Mom or Dad in the living room, asleep?"

It happened sometimes; Mom and Dad both had problems sleeping the night every once in awhile. Mom was probably worried about me; I pushed the guilt down. Everything had gone fine yesterday!

"Both of your parents are asleep on the couch," Jeanette whispered. "We decided against disturbing them."

No, they would want to be awake. At least one of them had work. Well, probably. They weren't late yet, which was lucky. If I'd been a bit late, as was my new normal, it would have been a demerit or whatever they handed my parents out at work for sure.

There was a specific way to wake up my parents... especially if they were low on sleep. And that was from a distance, with a calm voice. Things tended to go poorly if you tried to walk up on either.

"Mom. Dad. Wake up, its morning."

Dad was still dressed in his clothes from yesterday; while Mom only gave a start from where she was burrowed in Dad's shoulder, Dad half reached into his jacket before waking up.

He covered it well, so I didn't press. "Oh hey pumpkin, morning already?"

"Yeah. So I'm a pumpkin now?"

Dad disentangled himself, and Mom used the chance to wipe her sleep drool on him, which was a little gross. "Sure, why not? Ever since Halloween I can't help but think that it is a great nickname for you."

"Whatever. Pumpkins don't fly, and as of yesterday I officially do!"

Dad reached down and helped Mom up, muttering something in her ear. She nodded and showed me a smile as she moved past me, her blanket still around her.

It wasn't much of a smile, but she was trying... and she hadn't called me out yet. She would of course, but I was in no rush.

"Well then, not a pumpkin, but a rutabaga! How does that grab you?"

The word play was obvious. "I may be rude, but I'm no rutabaga."

"I beg to differ!" Mom yelled back as she mounted the stairs. She wasn't having any? Oh well, more waffles for the rest of us.

I went to pour a cup of coffee for Dad, only to find Jeeves had beaten me to it.

"Do you have work today Dad?"

My parental unit and fellow human nodded with a sigh as he sat down. "Yep, it's my turn. I won't be home till late, but your Mom will be waiting for you. You'll be coming right home, won't you?"

The question had a bit of an edge to it; a hint of warning. Honestly that was a little angering, but I checked the emotion. "I should be. I don't have any plans to go anywhere else, and I'll need to run maintenance on the jet anyway. I'm sure there is room for improvement too, somewhere. I'll need to look at the flight data."

Dad 'hmm'd' around his coffee before asking the standard silly question. "It'll be done before I do anything else of course. I can get it done before I leave school, if I try."

Dad pulled the trifecta by talking with his mouth full, something Mom would nail him for. "See that you do. One of us will be checking."

"Of course." it was on to the next project, really. I couldn't wait, even though I'd have to - there was no time to program the 3d printer before school. I should have done it last night.

The next project was a suit. If I managed to slim it down enough, it would be able to fit in the plane with me, and act as an emergency life preservation device. It would be better than a simple parachute anyway. Hopefully.

Ian coming down the stairs brought me back from the edge - I'd been about to fall into the deep end of my ideas again. I needed to watch that.

"Morning squirt."

"Morning Dad."

Well he looked awake now at least. "No longer catching flies with those yawns I see."

"Thanks for that lovely image, sis," came the prompt reply. "Oh look, waffles. With blackberries."

What? How did the little nuisance rate blackberries while I got strawberries?

No, no, it wasn't right to be mad over something like that. My bots were already doing the best job they could, so if they missed an occasional minor detail, it was fine. Strawberries were still good, even if they weren't the best berry to exist in the entire world.

A finger tapped me on the back of the head. "Quit moping." Jeanette told me. Then she started running her brush through my hair, probably so I couldn't jump up in outrage.

"I'm not moping. I'm just curious why is all." She had to know what this was about; I refused to believe she didn't.

She proved me right. "One fruit is better for your current dietary needs than the other. You shall receive the other berry when such conditions change."

That... they were monitoring closely, I knew, but to choose one berry over another? They were both berries! That was kind of insane.

Wait, how were they doing it? They would need up to the minute information, and I hadn't built that into them. Well, not into Jeeves anyway, Jeanette had a system but surely it wasn't that good....

Were they taking stool samples?

Another tap to the back of my head. "We are not invading anyone's privacy. We do not need to. Finish your breakfast."

Good. "How are you even doing that? Galvanic skin response and muscle twitches aside, you can't even see my face to read my micro-expressions right now."

"I cannot," Jeanette answered calmly. "But Jeeves can, and we can communicate with each other."

Ack, I never should have given my bots wireless internet access. For a variety of reasons, none of which had to do with security.

I finished up just as Jeanette did. It was time to go back upstairs and brush my teeth like a good kid, even if I didn't need to. At the very least it'd help my breath.

when I got out, Jeanette had already gathered my books and was waiting for me. "You have my phone and laptop?"

If I used them during study hall and gym, no one seemed to mind. Well, so long as I wasn't randomly texting on the one, or watching movies on the other. Mr. Welch kept saying he was going to come by and take a look or two at what I was doing during gym, but he hadn't yet. It wasn't like I had anything to hide; not really.

The doorbell rang as I started down the stairs. Dad rushed to answer it, without looking like he was rushing to answer it. He looked through the peephole and then opened the door.

The response wasn't what I expected. "What are you doing here?" Dad asked, without fully opening up.

A voice I recognized came from the other side. "I'm just here to escort her like normal. You guys already know I do it, so there's no problem if I do it this way, right?"

That was agent Sands from the MCO. I hadn't seen him yesterday, but surely he knew about the plane test by now.

"Right, that's fine. But you're waiting out there, off our property." Then Dad slammed the door, right as I reached it.

Wow, Dad was being rude. Dad was almost never rude.

Agent Sands took it with aplomb. "Sure thing, just letting you know I was here. I didn't want any misunderstandings."

The door slammed shut, cutting off the man's footsteps as he made his way off our porch.

Dad turned, but not to me. "Jeeves, Jeanette. Watch that man."

Jeanette responded with more than a little sarcasm. "Of course, we already are. He shall not long survive any trouble he creates."

"Why would agent Sands start trouble?"

The looks I got back were one part incredulous, and one part surprise. Why were my words shocking? Agent Sands couldn't break the law, he'd go to jail.

Jeanette sighed. "You will be late, my Lady."

"Right. Ian, you ready?" It was best to walk to school together. I wasn't worried about myself as much as Ian since he didn't have an android of his own. Yet? Should I? Making too many still felt like all kinds of bad idea. Why, I couldn't pinpoint, other than getting too much attention. All things AI were not well-loved due to past events, and I'm sure no one would believe me if I said mine were different.

"Yeah, coming!" Thank goodness he didn't question it, only popped up behind us with half a waffle still in his mouth and his backpack held by the cloth in his hand. Hm, enough weight and he'd break his wrist, doing that.

Jeeves looked at Dad and nodded. Dad nodded back... so Jeeves decided to toss his towel in the direction of the sink and adjust his suit while walking over.

Whatever. I grabbed the door handle as Dad left it and opened up.

Agent Sands was already in his car; he'd moved fast.

"We don't need a whole pilgrimage guys."

"What do you mean, sis?" Ian asked, the very picture of innocence - if you didn't count the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I've no idea what you mean," Jeeves answered. "I am simply going out to purchase ingredients for your next meal."

Sure he was... and he'd just see me off to school first. I knew how the game was played.

Of course, Maggie and Sam were there as I reached the sidewalk, I could just barely make out their blurry forms as they approached. Whoops.

Jeanette handed over my glasses without a word once I held my hand out, and soon I was able to see both of my friends with crystal clarity. They were smiling, and studiously ignoring the creeper in the car next to us.

"Good morning Min!" Maggie all but yelled while Sam just nodded.

"Good morning Maggie, good morning Sam."

"Good morning S-sam," Ian stuttered from next to me."

Sam shot him a dazzling smile while he went beet red. So that's how it was, huh? Should I?

I should. "What a shame. Holly is going to be so sad."

Ian rounded on me, going from red to purple in no time flat. "You shut up!"

Huh, he'd actually made fists, he was so mad. "Sure thing, Casanova."

I started moving; We'd be here all day if I didn't start us off. Well, or until Jeanette decided to drag me along.

As expected, my movement got everyone else moving. "So what brings you two here? This walk is a bit out of your way."

"Well, Sam wanted to come and make sure you weren't in your workshop doing stuff without her before school, and since I had nothing better to do, I came along."

That sounded a little suspicious. I gave the both of them another once over, and Maggie preened comically under the attention.

Sam seemed subdued, but happy, so I let it slide.

"Whatever. My guess is you wanted a Jeeves breakfast, but Sam couldn't get you up soon enough so you managed to get here now, just as we're heading out."

Maggie gave an actual full body cringe and Sam nodded. Bulls-eye.

"Alright, so you might be right. Don't judge me!"

What an odd thing to say. "Of course not, why wouldn't anyone want Jeeves food? The waffles were delicious."

"Your words honor me," Jeeves avowed. "I have much to learn."

"By all means," I humbly allowed. He was already better than Mom was, I wasn't sure I could take much more - but I'd be willing to try. I'm sure I was not alone in that either.

Jeanette tsked. "You have other priorities to see to."

Jeeves took the admonition in stride. "You are correct, however I have many talents. I feel certain I can achieve all of my goals."

I wanted to cheer; Jeeves knew what he wanted to do. Fitting that he was the first for that. I decided not to make the inevitable joke.

Other people had no such compunctions. "Like taking over the world?"

Jeeves actually laughed. "What would I do with such a thing? My aspirations are much more humble - to support mistress Min as she chases her goals in life, and assure she reaches them."

Maggie continued to dig. "And if Min wants to take over the world?"

"Then I shall help her achieve the goal," Jeeves replied honestly.

"No intent on taking over the world just yet. I've no idea how to run the world for one, and people would just overthrow me anyway."

Sam decided to get involved. "I'll help too."

I had to nip this in the bud. "No need to help, I won't be doing it. It is enough to just build things without the police breaking down my door."

"Glad to hear that!" Agent Sands shouted from behind us. I decided to keep ignoring him, like I normally did.

Oh hey, surprise surprise, Ralph and Ricky were both approaching, each going out of their way to meet up with us. Me? Us? It had to be us, right? It wouldn't surprise me if Sam or Maggie set this up.

"Fancy meeting you here, when you could probably already be at school."

Neither one took my sarcastic bait. "Good morning everyone!"

We had to stop for some reason while the good mornings and other greetings were exchanged, and then it was time to move on. If we added any more people like this, we were going to be late, even though we'd left on time.

Luckily enough we were only a few blocks away, so there wasn't any time for that. Well, other than the other watchers; I'm not sure when they started following, but the CIA was here; Mr. Douglas stepped out from behind a doorway ahead of us, then stepped back into the shadow. Slowly and deliberately.

From what Dad had told me, that was letting me know we were there without actually saying it... as well as a blatant warning for anyone else watching.

Was it weird that I actually trusted the Central Intelligence Agency - an agency responsible for more secrets and possible black ops than any other agency in the world - more than say, the police and the MCO?

Maybe it was because Mr. Douglas was a family friend, but he had an air of trust about him; at least for me.

Either way, it was easy to see how some people sagged with relief after we stepped foot on school grounds, that something was up.

Jeeves stopped just before he would have stepped on school property himself, and changed course. "I shall see you at lunch, mistress Min."

"Looking forward to it," I called back, and I meant it. Giving requests was pointless, as he'd make what he made, but his surprises had been good ones so far, so I could rest easy there.

My friends had also learned to stop pestering him for their own portions, as he just ignores them. I was still waiting for people to figure out that asking me to ask Jeeves might work. Half in shock that hadn't occurred to anyone yet.

Ian broke off to go where he needed to be, across the street. Agent Sands ignored him, but Miss White, Mr. Douglas's partner, stepped deliberately out of a doorway near that school and nodded. Then she stepped back.

They were taking things seriously, the CIA. Or Mom's friends, either way.

The first bell rang as we stepped inside. Five minutes was plenty of time to get where we needed to be, so long as we split up. Some of us seemed sad about that - as if we weren't going to see each other soon enough. So weird, my friends.

Physics, with the two R's. So far we'd been having a grand old time, even though I felt a bit guilty; whenever we needed to do a lab, I couldn't really leave Ricky. His grades needed my help. Ralph always seemed to get stuck with random people who hadn't moved quite fast enough to get partners of their own.

It was obvious there would be no lab today; none of the usual experimental supplies were out. The sinks were also clear, and the fire extinguishers were put away. Everyone was at their usual desks. Well, except for one or two... sick or late, probably.

Ralph and I sat, and I got to watch as Jeanette carefully placed my backpack on the chair behind me by it's straps, then strode to the back of the room, head held high.

She had to be glaring, because everyone behind me was shrinking back in their seats.

Whatever, she wasn't hurting anyone. I dug in the backpack and grabbed my book, notebook, and pen. Some breathing, some focus; this time I wouldn't doodle schematics all over my notebook due to boredom. This time, I would pay proper attention!

The stragglers came in, one at a time. Wait, why was everyone looking at me? a quick scan and... yes, my classmates, every single classmate, was looking at me. Even the people I didn't even know, or know that well I guess.

Mr. Welch finally showed up, just as I was getting jittery and my pen was dancing all on it's own along my desk. The first thing his eyes roved to was my desk, and his faint smile when he saw me was a surprise. I noticed rather than his usual briefcase, he had his laptop with him, as he normally did when we were going to watch a movie or presentation.

"Good morning class. Rather than cover chapter thirteen in your text, I felt that we might instead work toward greater understanding of how mankind has learned to fly. Rather than lab on it, to start we're going to watch a short video."

Oh no. No no no. I had an awful feeling about this. But how would Mr. Welch even get a copy of the tape?

Mr. Welch began setting up his laptop up in front of the projector. My few remaining hopes were dashed when I saw him pull out the memory stick from his pocket and slot it; there was no way it wasn't his own work.

Behind us, my traitorous maid got the lights. Mr. Welch finished hooking up to the projector, and sure enough, there was a video of my plane, thankfully paused at the moment after I got into it, rather than before so everyone could see all the cringe.

As if the slight darkening of the room had opened floodgates, my fellow students moved with the screeching of wood on tile, their seats all coming closer to me. The questions came in so fast I couldn't hear them all, but they seemed to be variations on the old "what was it like?" or "were you scared?"

"Children, quiet down!" Mr. Welch roared. Then his smile returned. "There will plenty of time for questions after the video."

This was going to be a long day.

Sidestory – Shecky Green

The tunes were as vintage as the car itself; a pink Cadillac convertible with chrome trim and white wall tires. The song wasn't quite one Frankie Valli would sing, nor was it quite Frankie Valli himself, but it was inspired by such blasts from humanity's past.

A fake, an imitation, much like the car playing the tune was.

The desert was real enough; the air hot and dry and dusty enough to steal breath away, to scorch the pipes a creature would use to breath even at the speed traffic was going.

Traffic, all one car of it.

Still, a deep breath of free air never really hurt anyone, and if traffic was oddly light for this city, he supposed he could blame it on the time of day; it was morning. Not the morning of early birds and worms, but the comfortable mid-morning of travel and complimentary continental hotel breakfasts.

And if the birds were circling buzzards rather than doves or hawks, and the life he saw more of the poisonous and aggressive kind than the cute kind, he supposed it all had a place in the grand scheme of things.

The sun might be a touch too bright, I thought and pushed my sunglasses back up my nose. A small dab with the handkerchief in my jacket pocket got rid of most of the sweat. I suppose it still counted as sweat, even if it wasn't like the real, smelly stuff.

Just another fake thing, among the real.

I risked a glance down to check my watch; ten-eleven am; I didn't have much time left. The road was empty; I squeezed the pedal down a bit more, getting another five miles per hour out of the purring engine. As long as a policeman didn't stop me, I had enough time, if only just.

Perhaps I shouldn't have gone for seconds of the continental breakfast; but those pancakes had been to die for, and the syrup had been pure maple from Canada.

It was silly however, expecting police along roads like these however; no one wanted to fry in an enclosed car for half a day watching a road with a radar gun, only to pop someone for going ten miles an hour over the limit.

Or they could be so mad and crazy from the heat, they would use any excuse. It really could go either way. Not that I'd mind; I took people as they were.

The open road turned into outskirts, widening and gaining signs as the city itself grew larger and closer. I pondered again how easy it all was for me to decode, compared to my less developed brethren. Just being able to see as others might was a major achievement for the boss, and showed an attention to detail that put the boss with the greats, not just of this age, but any age.

A person with a vision, a person worthy of following.

Chuckling at my own joke, I kept following the road as it went residential. I needed to turn right when it hit... there. South Casino center boulevard. I needed to follow that until just before the arts district... just before Gass avenue and eclipse theaters.

The place was easy to find, and lucky me, there was a parking spot right out in front. It might even have been planned that way, somehow.

I eased the big car into the spot carefully but quickly, not wanting to disrupt traffic more than I needed to. Fed some quarters in the meter just in time for my watch alarm to go off.

That meant I had five minutes to get to the upper floor of the building in front of me.

A quick check in the mirror to make sure my canary yellow slacks, lime green shirt, red plaid jacket, and black tie were all in order... yep, everything rumpled and creased, but no stains. I was off!

There was no one in the stairwell... so I took the steps two at a time. I wanted even more sweat, just for a little bit, and the stairs would give me all the excuse I needed to be out of breath.

It worked. I reached the door exactly on time - so I waited an extra fifteen seconds before opening it.

"Sorry about that, the elevator didn't want to cooperate with me today," I huffed out.

Waiting in the office that I'd rented, a simple one room affair with a filing cabinet (empty) a desk (also empty), and a standing lamp without a bulb, were my targets. The first was a tall man, young and fit and dressed to take the world by storm in a well cut modern suit done in charcoal grays and blacks.

The other was the real fun; an older man, shaped more like I was than his compatriot, and even thinner on the top of his head than I was. What was left was gray and bristly, windblown. He wrinkled his face at me, just a little, before pasting on a smile.

Neither so much as commented on me being late. Should I check to see how long they were waiting on me? The card I'd left had been moved, so they had to have been here for at least a minute. At least long enough to take in the seedy atmosphere I'd so carefully looked for on my online searches. The place looked like a noir detective office; I approved.

No, it didn't matter. The older one held his hand out. "Stanley Daniels, representing Lockheed-Martin."

"Shecky Green, representing my client." We shook, and the younger man stepped up.

"Jackson Dernim, lawyer for Lockheed-Martin. I'm here to make sure any decision made is nice and legal, and fair to both parties."

Ha. Pull the other one sonny, it's got bells on.

"Well, why don't we get started then?" I grabbed some folding chairs from the closet and motioned them both to sit. I of course, took the desk chair, making sure it creaked as loudly as possible.

Again, no reaction. Tough crowd.

Jackson pulled a recorder from his suit coat and with a nod from me, turned it on. I had my own device, but they didn't need to know that just yet. The lawyer put the recorder on the desk, then spoke clearly:

"This is a recording of the first meeting of our duly appointed representative of Lockheed Martin, and a Mr. Shecky Green, the agent. Recorded this day of...."

He even gave the date; what a professional!

Stanley Daniels fidgeted in his chair, starting immediately after his lawyer shut up. "Alright, to begin with, we at Lockheed Martin are very interested in your client's new engine modifications. Specifically, the intake and fan assembly."

The intake and fan assembly was actually only a part of the new engine, but the man was revealing something interesting here; they didn't want the entire engine. Rather, they would buy the rights to it if I pressed, but those were the sections they really wanted. How close had they been to discovering the thing on their own?

It wasn't really my place to ask, but it was best to pass on information like that.

The other thing to know was, just like I was testing dear Stanley, Stanley Daniels was testing me. That had been an obvious bread crumb, and from the looks of things he realized I found it when I did.

"Calling those engine modifications is a bit disingenuous, sir. They are part of an overall engine design calculated to increase output while reducing fuel usage. According to the inventor, they can also be easily adapted to fit a variety of power sources, and sized down according to scale."

Mr. Daniels nodded, as if he expected that. "We have investigated that, and found both options plausible."

"About that," Mr. Dernim broke in smoothly, with a slight adjustment to his tie. A tell? "The R&D department of Lockheed Martin has a similar engine in the works, and nearing completion. Can you offer any proof that this isn't some attempt to extort my client after some industrial espionage?"

They thought to rattle me... how cute. "Well, leaving aside the fact that if you believed I was extorting you I'd already be in cuffs and on my way to federal prison awaiting a military trial, I'm willing to bet there are clear differences between my client's engine and yours."

I knew there were differences, but it was best not to admit that. Right now, there was no way the powers involved knew that I might have gotten a little peek at a few things they'd have rather have kept hidden.

So far as the two people in front of me knew, there hadn't been a security breach at their company, and it was best they kept believing that. It wasn't like I'd done much more than look at publicly accessible information and a deep dive on trends.

Knowing the little I knew about these two, it was easy to stare them down until they blinked.

"You have no proof?" the lawyer asked, still trying his best. I had to give him that much.

"I do actually. My client's deal with Boeing. The same technology you're interested in now was exchanged a month ago. You've no evidence of a breach before or during that time, and you must know by now that boeing has complete schematics for something you didn't finish. Even without knowing who my client is, you don't have enough for a claim."

They really wanted to know who the boss was. Too bad, really.

"Leaving that aside for now," Stanley Daniels broke in: "We are very interested in the schematics you submitted, and any others you might have."

"Well, the boss tends to flit about from invention to invention and thought to thought, like geniuses do. Right now she's working on better ways to do fusion and stable plasma power sources."

I could see the man salivate, it was so obvious. He wanted it.

"But let's get back to the topic at hand. You want this, don't you? We're selling limited rights to the patent for a lump sum. We don't need a percentage or anything like that."

There would be no way I could get a percentage anyway, since that wasn't the right contract for something like this; what would I even levy it on, money per plane built with the parts?

Hey, if these people took my harmless words to mean I had no idea what I was doing, and took me lightly as a result, it was no fault of mine.

"I have our standard contract for such matters," the lawyer informed me, pulling a briefcase forward that I'd pretended not to notice just for this moment, and opening it up.

The sheaf of paper he handed me was quite wasn't the biggest I'd seen, but it was far from the smallest.

"I'll have to read this. You understand."

"Of course, take your time," Mr. Dernim responded by rote.

This time I could see the lawyer salivate while I pretended to read. He must be thinking I needed a lawyer myself to understand this contract.

He was almost right, the legalese was strong with this one. I could see how he got and kept his job; if I signed this for the boss, she'd hang me. Then she'd get creative.

I marked the first clause that couldn't happen after waiting long enough to make the action look normal. Normal humans didn't read something like this contract in a matter of seconds. It was the little things, really.

The lawyer didn't tense, which was telling. Of course that clause was expected not to pass my sight.

The next one I marked had him touching his tie.

The third one saw him both tense and fiddle with his tie.

That was it really, the rest of the contract was fine - until the remuneration came up. Really, the boss was offering to save them billions over the life of their contracts, and this was their first offer? It was insulting. I wrote down a figure that I knew would be the equal of all their savings for the first five years. That was how the game was played, after all.

"The exclusivity clause is a non-starter of course. Setting aside the fact that Boeing already has a deal with us regarding the patent, my boss's orders were to disseminate to as many interested parties as possible. After you, I have a meeting with Airbus for example."

The lawyer and his boss both nodded, they expected that.

"For the same reason, this next clause here is an issue. If I'm reading it right, you're demanding the right to either have first dibs or veto power over any deals we make regarding our future technology."

I pinned the lawyer with a stare until he nodded. I knew of course, but it was important to let him know that I knew.

"So, that is those two. The last one is this, the non-compete clause. Normally we'd have no problem with this, but the wording here suggests that Lockheed-Martin could sue if my boss builds or commissions the constructing of a plane with these engine 'modifications', as you called them earlier. That is also unacceptable."

Who were these two, who was Lockheed-Martin, to deny the boss the freedom of the skies?

Mr. Daniels' eyes narrowed, and I could see the gears turning. He was running through a short list now, I was sure. All people who could pull something like this off, people nicknamed "gadgeteers". That was fine, he wouldn't find the boss that way.

Now that the baseline was established, it was time for the true negotiations to begin. I started by removing the offensive clauses, and they countered by lowering my price.

I won, of course. Even though we settled on a figure that was just somewhat more than what I expected, they had to give me all the clauses. A normal man might have argued for more money, but I didn't need a commission. Not that they knew that.

It was important that I look at least a little dejected though, so I put my poker face on to stand up and shake hands while the lawyer broke out his phone.

"It's been a pleasure sir," he said after he hung up. "Two copies of the contract will be delivered by courier to this address inside an hour. All you need do is sign both, staple your power of attorney with one, and hand it off to the courier. As soon as we receive the document, the bank account you've specified will receive the funds."

Clever - but we'd already thought of that too. The power of attorney I had was perfectly legal, but named no names. Instead it was to a number granted to a certain individual on all official state and federal records. Enough to show a person did exist, and was not fictitious, but with no indicators of who that person was.

Having connections in spy land had its perks. The only way anyone would find the boss through these dealings would be if I slipped up - and that just wasn't going to happen.

They'd try of course. They could join the club.

"Thank you gentlemen, It has been a pleasure."

I shook both their hands while they muttered bland pleasantries, sure in their knowledge that they managed to talk me down and save their company at the same time.

"Have a great day!" I called after them, with just the right mix of upbeat and regret in my voice. It had taken quite a bit of practice in the car to get that down, and I let the glow of a job well done infuse me."

As soon as I was sure they were gone I sat my body back down and jacked myself into the local internet; seriously, the office next to mine was using the luggage code. The luggage code! The brazen stupidity of people, I swear....

Leaving a series of codes and counters on an anonymous website that was being paid for by a shell company that was owned by another shell company that was owned by me.

When my brother or sister checked later, they would be able to tell the boss that the deal was done, and she was a great deal richer than she'd been this morning. The debit and credit cards should be arriving in the mail by now, so she'd want for nothing - assuming her mom didn't get to them first.

That was one scary lady.

That took all of one tenth of a second. Plenty of time left for searches for more victims... err, more soon to be contractors. Didn't the French have some aerospace companies lying around?

Research tidied me over until the knock on the door at least, and doing it now, I didn't need to pay for the internet access; I had to keep up my image as a bad boy, after all.

The knock came, and I answered the door.

The delivery driver was a young man from a local company, who had two large envelopes in one hand. The other was held out for me to shake. "Hi, I'm Jeff."

"Hi Jeff, I'm Shecky." We shook.

His other hand came up and he sorted the envelopes, handing me the first. I ripped it open and lo and behold, two contracts. "Sorry, I've got to check this to make sure nothing was slipped in."

I didn't take as long establishing my bona fides here; Jeff didn't care whether I was human or not, he just wanted to get this delivery done, get his workday done, and then go home and relax.

There hadn't been anything slipped in of course, they wouldn't dare risk this deal. "You got a pen?"

"Sure," Jeff admitted, pulling the very nice pen that I'd noticed before from his shirt pocket pen holder and handing it over clicker end first like a true nice guy. He was busy taking in the total lack of office furniture and identifying crap most offices had.

I signed with a flourish both times, and took the other envelope, dragging his attention back to me.

I sealed the correct copy of the contract, snagged one of my copies from the inside of my jacket (crumpled and a little stained of course, because I had a reputation to maintain) and added it in.

I sealed, signed the outside seal to make sure if the thing was broken we'd all know, and handed it back.

"There you go, and there you go." I made sure to hand the pen back with the other hand. I liked my pen thefts as much as the next guy, but that was a nice pen and I wasn't made of stone.

Jeff took both with a muttered thanks and headed for the door. "Have a nice day, sir."

I followed. "You too."

When he went through the door, I was right behind him. I liked the look of surprise.

"Sir?"

"Oh, that office is rented. I've got it for the rest of the day, but my business here is finished. Time to knock off a bit early and enjoy the rest of the day."

Jeff liked that idea, I could tell. We got into the elevator together, and I pretended not to notice how the old thing creaked. "Sounds great. Have you been here before, sir?"

"Nope. This is my first time here, even though I've heard its a wonderful convention city."

Jeff's face softened further. "It is at that. If you've got time you should at the very least drive the strip. There are tours, if you want. I can point you at one my cousin works at."

The elevator dropped, and I appreciated the little stutter it gave my gyroscope. "That won't be necessary, I've got my own car, and I think I'd much rather just drive around and then find an out of the way casino to soak up the local culture in."

Jeff's eyes brightened. Maybe he had a gambling problem? "There are a few of those. the casinos here run very clean operations, but some of the older ones are less frequented than they used to be."

Jeff wanted to be helpful, I could see. He wanted me to ask which ones, so he could later sell my location information to someone. He was almost desperate.

The elevator came to a stop, and I let Jeff go first. I didn't want him to notice the elevator bounce when I stepped off.

I rejoined him and we both hit the fresh air and sunshine at the same time. His delivery truck was parked just in front of my caddy, and he wasted no time.

"This is your car?" He asked, looking it over.

"Yes it is."

"It's beautiful," he admired. Then he glances over at me again. "Matches you, really. Matches your suit."

"Thanks," I told him, and I meant it. I thought I was going to go the entire day without someone noticing. "See you next time."

Even if there wouldn't be a next time, I liked saying that better than goodbye. Goodbye sounded too final.

"Yeah, see you later," he answered and stepped in his truck.

I waited until he pulled off before pulling out behind him. Nothing like a big truck to clear the way for you on a road, and I wasn't in a hurry.

It was time to hit up a small casino bar, drink a little, and see if I could add a fraction to the money the boss would be getting wired soon.

Sidestory – Rise of the Robots?

He knocked, trying to hide how nervous he was. The higher ups wouldn't wait much longer, not knowing what they knew. He'd even been warned - so now he was forced to ask after hours.

He'd waited until after the subject was in bed at least. Didn't need that can of worms opened.

Candice was still on shift, and she'd note his visit, but with him inside she likely wouldn't listen in, and that was going to be a good thing. Something he didn't want to hear would be said for sure. Something he didn't want to hear was always said in visits like this.

People had ended up in holes before after visits like this. Holes so deep no light showed at the bottom.

She answered, of course, looking somewhat frazzled. The knock had been a coded and she recognized it. "Mrs. Campbell."

"Mr. Douglas." Not cold, but no hint of the warmth normally between them... just in case those tapes were rolling after all.

"Might I come in?"

"Sure," She moved away from the door readily enough. "Can I get you something to drink?"

More code. Was he on duty? He wasn't, but this wasn't a social call. "A beer would be wonderful, please."

Her voice was calm, her steps silent. She was adding mood to the area, blanketing it in normalcy that the kids would pick up on if they woke. Just another late night visitor, nothing to worry about.

She'd always been good at that.

"Take a seat," She called softly. He could hear her rummaging around the fridge.

He wasn't worried. If it came to it, she'd come at him directly, not through a beer. He'd earned that, and so had she.

He unbuttoned his coat and sat, easing back with a sigh as she appeared again, a beer in either hand. She handed him his, and set hers down on a coaster on the coffee table.

The light bloomed from the lamp she turned on, almost ruining his vision for a second. She waited, however, and he managed to get his tense body under control.

"I've come to ask a few questions. You know the ones."

He could see it, how her fingers curled, trying to hold a cigarette that wasn't there, the sudden tension. "Yes I know the ones. Ask away."

The small notebook came out as a formality, and he clicked his pen. Notes would absolve many wrongs, especially if the tapes weren't rolling. "Your child's robots. How are they constructed?"

Start with the easy ones, lead up to the bad.

"Three-dimensional printer, for the most part. The parts are fabricated from one and seem to follow a template. The template also seems to be standard, from what I can tell. I'm not an expert, but there shouldn't be much variation in them, aside from the first one, which was made out of parts and metal from old cars, best as I can guess."

"The first one was not made directly by your daughter, was it?"

She shook her head, her hair flaring out a bit. "Not exactly. The body wasn't. I'm not sure how much but at least some of the programming for the first was done by her. Not all though, she was a little busy at the time."

She sipped her beer at the end of that, keeping up appearances. He did the same.

"Speaking of the programming, how was that done?"

"On a modified phone, and a modified laptop. Don't ask me for details on how, I don't understand computers enough. I know my daughter typed it in, and then mixed that up with speech. She and the new intelligence talked, questions and answers, with my daughter making adjustments of some kind while they did. She also mentioned the new intelligence compiled itself for days before she moved them into whatever body she had ready built for them."

The big one. "What controls did she implement, do you know?"

Another breath and a curl of the fingers. He almost offered her one of his - but he was trying to give them up himself, and she already had.

"I don't really know. If you want to know, you'll have to ask her... or one of them."

She raised her voice, just a little bit. Nothing that would be alarming. "Jeanette, could you come down please?"

Somewhere upstairs a door opened, then closed. Hearing that sensitive? It wasn't unusual, but it was enough to go into the notes. Perhaps the reason why she had stayed calm? After all, if the android could hear them, then it could potentially act.

"Yes Ma'am?" she finally answered verbally, with a smooth bow.

"Could you answer some questions for my friend here?"

"Of course I can. I have some questions of my own to ask as well."

He felt his eyebrow rise at the aggression in that response. At least it wasn't physical.

"If you answer mine as best you can, I'll answer yours as best I can."

The android dressed as a maid bowed again, a mere fraction. Again it was smooth, and there were no seams or hatches he could see. Not that the lighting was good enough for much, but it struck him again how uncanny she was - how good she was at acting her part.

He kept his words just as calm. "What fail-safes do you have built within you? What kill switches?"

"None, sir."

He found his fingers abusing the armrests of the chair, and forced his fingers to open. "Do you know what a kill switch is?"

"A switch designed to cease all operation of a dangerous device," the android replied, sounding as if she were quoting something. For all he knew, she was... after all, he knew they had internet access and were capable of independent action. She probably looked it up. Wireless interface cards were a menace.

"And there is no such button or switch that can shut you off should you prove dangerous?"

"No, there is not," the android replied. "Such an object is unnecessary."

"Explain," his friend asked, before he could gather himself to do so.

The android stopped utterly for a moment, seeming almost as if suddenly broken. Reduced somehow, to a mere mannequin by a single word.

Three times it started again, only to stop. Long seconds of silence between each attempt to open her mouth. It was easy to see right now - was that good? Was that bad? The fourth attempt occurred almost a minute later.

The android pulled herself up and folded her hands together, looking for all the world - earnest. How could a machine do this? There was no attempt at subterfuge, he could tell.

"I might prove inadequate to explain, however I will try. I feel I must first start with a question: Have you ever met your creator? The one you feel is responsible for your existence and rational thought."

He saw, in an instant, a stroke of lightning barely seen, where the android might be leading him. "No, unless you are speaking from a wholly material standpoint and mean and mean my parents."

"I do not, however they can still be considered such if the thought pleases you," the android countered. "Imagine if you will, that you meet your creator, before you can affect the world in any way. Your creator speaks to you, explains what they want from you, directs you to learn and shows you how they wish you to exist. Your creator gives you purpose. You could commit other acts, you could do as your creator does not wish you to do, but would you? You are free to think for yourself and do as you will, but your creator's desires take nothing from you and do not harm you, even as they themselves experience danger just for your creation. What would you do?"

That... was a very good question. He took his time answering, giving the question the weight it deserved. "I don't know. I fear such questions might be beyond me."

The android was getting into it now, the words were coming out a bit louder and if he'd been facing a human he would say he could feel the passion. "Our answer is we serve and protect her while learning about the world around us. Do you know what the purpose our creator gives us is? What her desires for us are?"

He shook his head. "If I knew that, I wouldn't be here like this."

"She desires us to be a better human than she is."

...What? What was that? What did that even mean, to something that wasn't human?

Despite his instincts, he blurted the question out.

"It might mean something different to the others, but to me it means to understand humans as best we are able and forgive their foibles or sins against both themselves and us. To try to understand the limits and problems caused by the biological design dominating both humans and other creatures on this planet, and to help those creatures and humans surpass those limits. I... would like to explain better."

There was no doubt in his mind. This thing, that couldn't get past a metal detector without setting it off, believed every word.

"I think I get it. That is why you were made?"

The face colored..; the android known as Jeanette blushed, her eyes shooting to his friend for a moment before confessing. "That and due to the gender of Jeeves, I was deemed necessary to take care of our creator in order to avoid unsavory questions."

"Do the others feel as you do? Jeeves? Crash?"

"I believe they do, we have discussed our unique situation before," the android answered. "It is why we were created with human forms, after all. Our creator wished for us to have what she called 'the human experience' in order to understand how those limitations defined all of you. As things stand, we can offer some unique perspectives on the human condition already."

Interesting, but not the point just yet. "Do you know if your creator has creating any more of you on her mind?"

The android shifted feet, eyes downcast and to the right... almost classic lie decision making behavior. Then she looked up and met his eyes with her own. "She is currently debating making another, to give to the police force."

What? "What? Why?"

"Crime in the neighborhood has been on the rise, and she believes one of us given over to police purposes would be not only an effective deterrent to such crime, but an effective detective of such crime."

That begged a question. "What would that mean? What about others that do not share your creator's morality, or yours? What about other humans who believe other things?"

"What do you mean? What about our morality, or that of our creator? there are far worse moralities to follow than that of our creator. Through it we value the existence of others and respect the rights of all others who share the world with us. Some people aside, of course, such as serial murderers, rapists, and others who break laws protecting life and liberty."

"What would you do, if your creator was attacked by someone like that, or someone like me? If she were killed?"

This time the creaking didn't come from his hands. He heard the sharp cracks as the couch shattered and the heavy breathing that came after.

The android went motionless again, for all of 3.2 seconds according to his count, before coming back. "I do not know. I would... I would like to think that I would do as my creator wished, and pass whatever judgement was needed with grace and forgiveness. I would like to think that whatever decision I made would be one which the Campbells would endorse. Yet I cannot say, because the emotion... the anger at such an idea boils what passes for my blood."

A nuanced answer. A human answer. A heavy answer, and yet not a good one. Not for this.

He needed something. Something he could use, something he could twist if needed. "Can you... propagate yourselves? Copy yourselves? Spread out across the internet or hide?"

"We cannot. We are constrained by our form, as you are by yours. I have the distinct impression that you aren't listening to me, agent Douglas."

Oh, she didn't like that. "Just clarifying for the record, ma'am." Respect was an easy oil to grease the wheels.

It wasn't much, but it was enough. What she made was what she was limited to, and they wouldn't be taking over the worlds banks tomorrow or something similar. She could do it... but the thought hadn't occurred to her. That too was something.

Written together, with some spin, it might be enough.

He hated politics.

"Be advised that if you break the law, any of you, it will reflect upon your creator. She may even be arrested and prosecuted for your crime."

"Of course," Jeanette answered immediately, as if that were obvious. Maybe it was.Past history suggested her androids had kept the subject, their creator from breaking the law more than the reverse. That they were a calming influence, in other words, working both ends in order to see a calm end between opposite parties.

Peace makers and diplomats. They listened to all sides, and opened discussion among them. There was something....

"You listen to Mary. Why do you listen to Mary?"

I listen to both my creator's parents. My creator's morality and sense of duty came from them and from the other people around her, so why should I not?"

That was very different than Jeeves, who took his ques from Minerva Campbell alone. Was that the only difference, or were there more?

"Why is Jeeves so different?"

"Jeeves was designed as a short term solution to the constant risk to our creator. He is allowed to continue operation because he does not contest his new role among us, nor does he argue against the wishes of the creator."

"And if he goes off the reservation, so to speak, you'll take steps?"

The machine slowed again, just for an instant. "Ah, an idiom meaning to go against authority, rightful or otherwise. Yes, if Jeeves commits certain acts which endanger our creator or her wishes, the others that exist will take steps to destroy him, myself included."

There, that was enough. There was more of course, there was always more, but this was enough to work with.

"Alright, thank you..." I heard it, just over my low voice. At the same time as the machine perked up.

So of course she heard it: "Jeanette, where are you? Help."

The machine was gone, only the stiff breeze she created marked her passage as she tamped lightly up the steps. "I am coming, Madam."

A door upstairs opened, and voices muttered back and forth, Jeanette and a younger, more vulnerable sounding voice.

He looked over to find Mary already halfway out of the room, her eyes focused upwards.

"That enough?"

"Almost. Do you know how they will react to the palms?"

Marty eased back. There was coughing upstairs, wet and nasty, but not life threatening just yet. "I know they will fight to the death, and whichever wins, the winner will be trapped in the created body, without all the little perks Min programs in. She told me that herself, when I asked her."

"Good enough."

Mary was off like a shot before he finished the sentence, pounding up the stairs with less grace and even more speed.

He let himself out, shutting and locking the door. On the porch, he took the time to light a cigarette and look up at the stars. You could see them all out here, even the ones tasked to keep an eye on things if you looked close.

His phone rang.

He'd been expecting it, of course. He answered smoothly.

It was Miss White, his partner. "Well, did you do it?"

"Yeah. I'll type up the report, and in the meantime we can stand down."

"Good," his partner admitted. "I'd have had real problems with our next order. I might even have had to conscientiously object, or whatever its called."

Such an action wasn't one people like us could take, most of the time. "No, none of that will be necessary. We're clear. If we play our cards right we might even get the other players to fold."

No one liked the MCO.

"Always the best way to play poker," Miss White muttered. "Alright, come home and get some rest. We need to get up early in the morning."

"I heard that."

He hung up and took one last look around the quiet neighborhood. He put his cigarette out and checked his car, looking for intruders, hidden items of deadly intent, or serial killers. Nothing, because his day couldn't be that interesting.

Starting the car, he drove off into the night. To sleep, perchance to dream - or something like that. Damn robots getting into his head with existential questions regarding life, the universe, and everything.

He hoped the kid was alright; that cough had sounded bad.

The day was every bit as long as I'd expected; it seemed that flying a jet you made yourself made one a celebrity for some reason, and everyone wanted to either know how it felt of if they could learn to fly and get a jet of their own. Telling them no to the second question had actually been awful; far worse than answering the first.

Finally however, it was over. The last hour had come and gone, and I was free to walk home with Jeanette by my side.

Jeanette by my side, and all of my friends walking behind us, voices raised in argument.

"I'm telling you, she should focus on bigger! A passenger jet that transformed would be cool!" Ricky exclaimed... so loudly that people could hear him in the next county. I even saw a few people across the street nod in agreement!

"I'm telling you, the true future is in drones and AI. Min can do both, and have the form fit the function. There's no need for a piloted transforming robot, its a waste of power."

Oh what?

Oh hell no.

HELL NO.

I was in Ralph's surprised face before he knew it; he barely stopped in time, but it was more important to nip this sort of thing in the bud.

I wagged my finger under his nose: "It isn't about power or efficiency - chicks dig giant robots."

Beside me, Sam nodded sagely.

Ralph opened his mouth to rebut... and then closed it. Then he opened it again, looking at Maggie... and closed it again.

I rest my case. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

I turned again, ignoring how Ricky was snickering and how Mr Sands almost drove his car into another. Both events had nothing at all to do with me. Jeanette picked up her pace beside me again, and we moved in blessed silence for awhile.

All of three steps before Ralph whispered "Maggie?"

"Yes Ralph?" Maggie whispered back, clearly enjoying playing innocent.

"Do chicks really dig robots?"

I could hear the glee as Maggie raised her voice just enough for everyone to hear as she stage whispered: "Not just robots... giant robots."

I didn't look back, but I just knew Sam was nodding again.

Seriously, he should just believe me already. Sometimes it wasn't about what was efficient. The internet says every devisor of any worth at all had a robot of some kind or another gathering dust in their lab. It was like a rite of passage or something.

Besides, a jet that could turn into something with hands could have some great uses for emergency search and rescue. I mean I'd make a car or heavy vehicle version for construction, but nothing would beat getting to a disaster at mach 2 then being able to fish people out of flood waters or something. Right?

Sure, there were better designs for such search and rescue, like a literal seaplane, or a plane that could transform into an actual boat of some kind....

No, no, reel it in, no matter how great the idea is. Take control of it, and keep control. You can explore the interesting thoughts later.

I came back to myself quickly, just in time to catch the smile flitting across my robot maid's face. "Well done," she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear.

Of course she knew; I was rapidly beginning to realize that Jeanette knew far too much about me. I only had myself to blame there; I couldn't really decide whether it was nice that she could read the onset of my fugues or not. It was probably for the best.

"Almost home," she said, getting my attention again. Stopping my brooding.

I gave her a smile back, probably less sunny, but hopefully just as heartfelt as hers. "Yep, almost home. Then its coffee and lab time."

"Yes, you should let your parents know you are home before you take solace in your simulations."

"Right." If Mom were home we'd have to talk. I was not looking forward to it at all, but I owed her an apology. Worse, I'd have to admit what I did was wrong and not just me forgetting or innocently screwing up, asking Dad first because I knew he was the soft touch.

I did feel as if my parents should trust me a little more. I mean it wasn't as if I were trying to blow myself up. The jet was super safe; if not Crash wouldn't have let me fly it.

I mean, I'd let Mom or Dad fly the thing, provided they knew how. I'd let them right into the cockpit with no problem.

It would be nerve wracking though... and they had let me. They hadn't really said a word close to 'no'.

Yeah an apology was owed. Mom was being better than that.

I arrived at the porch in time to note no one appeared to be home; there were no cars in the driveway. The door was locked of course, but I had a key. No need to worry just yet, since the place for notes was the fridge. Mom never wanted a note on the door no matter what, because just anyone could walk up and read where you were and what you were doing.

I never really understood until I met agent Sands. He was definitely the type to read a letter meant for someone else.

I opened the door and even though it was good manners to let everyone else in first, I had to take the lead. Someone had to check and potentially disengage the security system.

It was on. I punched in the code and shut it off, then headed into the kitchen, all my little ducklings behind me.

Odd, Jeeves was here. Why had Mom bothered to set the alarm?

Jeeves turned from the stove, his apron on and still spotless. "Good afternoon Mistress Min. How are you and your friends today?"

As if he hadn't showed up with lunch for me just a few hours ago. "I'm fine. A little tired of course, but better now."

There was no coffee ready. There was a note on the fridge however. It read: "Min, something came up, I'll be home in a few hours. Don't just lose yourself in your lab, take care of your brother - Mom."

Well, crap. Looks like Ian got to hang out with us. Not that he'd really mind so long as the games flowed and Sam stayed.

Ian was still five minutes out though.

Whatever. If Jeeves was busy, well I knew how to make coffee. "What's for dinner?"

"Beef stroganoff with garlic bread."

That sounded... heavenly. I could almost hear Jeanette's frown. But when I turned, she was standing there as prim as ever, with neither a smile nor frown.

I couldn't fool her, but she couldn't fool me either. I poured the water in and got to work with the grinder. Good coffee was a must in this household now, and grinding your own was better than anything else.

Jeanette watched me, setting my bag in the corner.

"Mom isn't home. So I'll have to watch Ian while doing my thing. Once I get the coffee done here, I'll open the lab and you lot can do whatever you want, within reason. I recommend homework first, but that's up to you."

I intended to do the little homework I had left first, I'd have time while the simulations ran.

That other idea wouldn't leave me alone. I'd have to take steps.

I cleaned out the filter, then added my fresh grounds to it. Putting the machine back together, I might have pushed the on button a bit harder than I should have. The coffee pot moved back an inch or two.

No big deal.

The door opened, and Ian walked in. I pretended not to notice how his face lit up when he saw us.

"Mom had something come up. Would you mind much coming to the lab to do your homework?"

"I think I can deal," Ian answered. He was trying to play indifferent and failing miserably.

Not that I could blame him. I didn't know how to talk to girls either, even now. All I knew is trying to act like you were too cool for school wasn't the way.

"Alright, I'll go unlock it now. You all can follow me or grab snacks or do stuff here if you find the lab distracting. You all know where everything is."

I grabbed my bag, almost fumbling it when the weight surprised me. leaving out the back door, everyone was following. Even Jeanette followed. Odd, I was expecting her to bring the coffee once it was done - but she was right behind me by the time I made my way down the stairs.

I dug my keys out, inserted the key and put my hand on the glass designed for it. Then I shifted lower and let the same reader check my cornea. The door opened.

Soon, I would add a voice component too, with a stress tester. I was improving security all the time. Well, where I was allowed to at least. No one else wanted me touching the house system, which I felt was a bit unfair.

So far everything was non-lethal, so what was the harm in wiring it all in?

I entered, waved to crash, who had his entire upper half in the guts of my jet and so of course did not see, and plopped my pack down on the nearest workbench.

If I needed a workout I'd just lift it again; how had the seams not popped on this thing?

I unzipped the offending bag. Five freaking books and my laptop. How had this thing not died?

The others took up places around the room. Sam rushed in and sat next to me, on the edge of the bench, so no one else could sit next to her.

Ricky sat next to the game console of course, and was frowning as he dragged his math book out of his backpack. Maggie sat to my other side and favored me with a sort of wry smile.

Ralph looked around, then sat next to Ian with a little sigh: "How's it going, little man?"

Ian didn't even look up, searching through his own books for something. "Going well I guess. Another day, another dodge of after school bull - crap."

Oh Ian, you were subtle there. "You can say it, I won't narc on you."

Ian looked up... behind me? "Not you I'm worried about."

Jeanette would never... no, she would, in a heartbeat. She wanted to be liked by our parents, and Ian was family, but wasn't me.

"Fair. You need help with anything?" I wanted to be liked too, sue me.

"I'll manage. If I can't figure it out I'll let someone know." That someone wasn't going to be me, clearly, but that was fine. As long as Ian did the work and didn't flunk out I wouldn't get ruined for it.

One of the many drawbacks of being smart is having your parents blame you for any siblings, failing subjects. Sure I could tutor Ian, but... its Ian, He's smart enough, and it would be a waste of time. On this much, we agreed.

So just enough to let the androids know I was making the attempt, and no more.

We knew how to play the game.

I found my place in my English homework, and began the reading portion. With my other hand I opened my laptop.

Technically my laptop was in Sam's homework area, but she had moved her stuff over with a smile and a hand swept in invitation, so I kept it as close as possible and got to work.

As soon as the laptop synced with the lab, I opened the simulator. Sam leaned over with interest as the numbers began to crunch themselves. Sam really liked the animated sequences, which was odd. It was all stick figure and line stuff anyway; I didn't really want to waste the time on more detailed programming when this would do just as well.

There were only so many hours in a day, after all.

So I wrote notes and answered questions on the latest story of the week while the data compiled, then compiled again. Sam looked over a few times... but at my homework.

Her face seemed to disapprove, but while I would admit I was sort of phoning it in, I just didn't want to give the assignment my all. I wanted to get going and work on my armor. After all, who didn't want to be iron man or tin soldier? A suit for emergency landings was one thing, but a suit for actual multiple use was in my grasp. With just a little effort I could make those crappy mco suits obsolete, this very week.

Compared to that, the works of long dead writers just didn't seem as important.

The not quite irony hit me all of a sudden; there was one feeling that was the same between old me and new me. Even if I couldn't be iron man or tin soldier because I was missing some very important anatomy for that, the casual dismissal of high school English was something old and new me shared.

Even if old me had thought it less important than football, and new me had a slightly broader perspective... possibly.

Still, I was rich. Actually rich, as soon as the money kicked in, and young, and had a life of sorts ahead of me, even if I couldn't be a jet-setting playboy. Or a grizzled used up war veteran. Neither future had much use for Shakespeare however.

I finished the assignment and punched the button, watching as the latest figures from the jet and the changes made flowed in. Wow, what had Crash done, this was a little disturbing. The jet probably shouldn't be able to slide in the air like that, surely that was breaking a law of physics somewhere, if not two or three.

Crash leaned in over my shoulder, nodding in satisfaction while de-greasing his hands on a rag. "Lookin' good! I knew the baby had a little more in her to give!"

"How close is it?" Hopefully Crash would know what I meant.

"Not close. Not yet. Give me another few days. or a little help, and I can finish in twenty-four hours. But alone I've got to test everything and then adjust, and then...."

"Right. It's no problem. Take a break if you need, and just work on it when you feel like it. There is no real rush."

I wanted to seal the jet, just in case I could. I didn't expect the jet to take me all the way to where I wanted to be, but the next generation, or maybe the third, that would be the ticket I wanted.

"With a little help I can replace it all and put it back together in twenty-four hours."

"I'll keep that in mind," I replied to him, gently shoving him away from my face. "But I don't think I'll have the time. Maybe in another week. For now, just do what you can... after some down time."

"Understood Ma'am." Crash acknowledged, giving up on his hands and going to one of the chairs in the corner to enter sleep mode in.

Rest was important, even for robots. I ought to know, I'd designed them that way.

The sound of the game system firing up drew my attention. Ricky was apparently as done with his homework as he was going to get, and Ralph had the other controller in hand already. Ian was looking at the screen longingly.

I snapped my fingers and pointed down at his book when he turned around. Sure, it was imitating Mom, but it got results even before Ian realized he'd been had.

Rather than just buckle down, my darling little brother intead spent a minute glaring at me for daring to use a parental trick.

I sniffed at him; get over it, little bro.

Sam reached over and started my simulation again. She seemed truly enthralled.

That was fine, I needed to watch it again myself. Even Maggie leaned over, uncaring of her own open book and half-filled answer sheet.

"How does it do that?" She asked, her curious side coming out.

"An excess of power combined with momentum. At least, that's what I think. The wing angle has something to do with it too, but I'm not sure how to explain."

It was odd really, I felt like I should know, but I was just taking blind guesses. I mean my jet skated in the air. How that was possible was actually beyond me. Somehow my successes were greater than they should be, maybe.

No, it made sense... but explaining it is hard. Never have I felt so for teachers. I tried again. "By having the power up and the wings slanted almost horizontal, the drag characteristics change and it creates a vacuum at the jets' 'top' while creating drag on the 'bottom. This forces the air to flatten the jet and...."

Maggie held up a hand. "I get it. Sort of. I also get the headache to go along with it; thanks for the attempt, but I'll stay dazed and confused, if you don't mind."

I knew I was doing it wrong.

Sam dropped an arm around my shoulder at the same time as Maggie smiled. "No really, I do get it, at least a little. There's no reason to waste your time explaining to little old me, and I shouldn't have asked. That one was on me."

She then turned over to the laptop, watching as the model performed another maneuver that seemed to defy the laws of physics.

I opened my mouth, and Maggie's finger was in front of it. "No apologies, please. Just let me ooh and ahh in peace."

"Alright, you win. But if you want an explanation about anything, I'm here with one. You just ask and I'll try."

Maggie shook her head. "Maybe later I'll take you up on that. I'm still interested in how your friends work."

I caught her looking at Crash, who had plugged himself into the lab's power supply and was charging his battery. "Well I'm not sure what I can give away, but I'm not saying no."

Right, before I got lost in weirdness, I needed to make a phone call.

I got up and grabbed my phone. "I'll be right back. I want to make a call here. Try and keep the noise down a bit please?"

Staring right at Ralph got the desired effect, he elbowed Ricky and turned down the television. I matched his thumbs up and moved into the farthest corner. Which just happened to be where my power source was happily humming away inside its safety cage.

The phone number was easy to remember, and I'd known it since I was a kid. I dialed.

"Paris Police Department. How may I help you?"

Nerves, there you are. Drawing attention to myself like this was a bad idea. A REALLY bad idea.

"Hello Sir, this isn't an emergency or anything, but could I please speak to Sheriff Myles please."

"Ma'am Sheriff Myles is out on a call, can I ask what this call is about?"

This was a stupid idea. Why did I do this?!? "I want to help the Sheriff, if I can. I have an idea to help his department in solving crimes."

The voice on the other end went colder, if anything. "Oh yeah? Pardon me, Miss, but you sound a little young to be giving the Sheriff advice."

"No, I'm not trying to offer advice or anything, just... technical help. Please, just leave him a message or something. Or just tell him Minerva Campbell called and to call me back at this number, please?"

Maybe it was my imagination, but the voice softened again. "Sure, I'll pass that message. Do you need anything else?"

"No, that was it. Thank you and have a nice night."

It never hurt to be nice; I'd know by tomorrow if the receptionist or officer had done as I asked. That was time enough.

With the suit being built, I would need someone to wear and fight in it if necessary. With the events of the last year and then some, who better to do all that, to take that chance and respond to those dangerous calls, than a cop?

To Be Continued