A shrill melody filled the workshop just as Rowan’s father accidentally set fire to one of his inventions. Rowan made a rush for the extinguisher and his phone at the same time, nearly dropping both as he answered. “Hello? Hello?” He aimed for the fire but accidentally caught his father with the foaming spray. ‘Sorry.’ He mouthed as he handed over the extinguisher. The fire was quickly extinguished, leaving behind the melted remains of some robotic creation.
“Have you burned down the workshop again?” The voice on the other line asked with a laugh.
“Not me!” Rowan yelped with a sheepish grin at his father who was brushing off the foam from his jacket. “Are you in town yet?”
“Is that Sebastian?” His father asked as he stepped onto the stairs leading out of the basement. “Tell him he can’t keep canceling dinner. If he’s in town, he’s staying for this one.”
Rowan followed his father upstairs as he relayed the information. “I can cook whatever if you’ve got any preferences.”
“I’m sure whatever you cook is better than anything I’ve eaten in space. Have you told your father about your plans yet?”
“I’m going into town!” Rowan called to his father who had disappeared into the kitchen. He waited until he had stepped out into the warm summer afternoon and closed the door before replying, “no. I wanted to wait until tonight. I don’t think I can do this one alone.”
“I’ll be there,” Sebastian said immediately. “You’re just being--”
“I am not being pessimistic.” Rowan cut him off as he walked past the shops and thatched roofed houses of his little town. He kicked a broken cobblestone across the street. “You know how my dad is. He barely lets me go into town alone. He’s not going to approve of me going off to college.”
“You could always run away. Tell him you ran away with a space pirate.”
“That isn’t funny, Sebastian.” Rowan dodged out of the way of a moving cart and gave a half wave to the driver. “You know he barely likes you as is.”
“Oh, please. He adores me.”
“He’s tolerant at most. Besides, this isn’t the same thing as bringing home my criminal boyfriend.”
“Hey!”
“This is me leaving home for the first time since my accident.” Rowan stopped in front of the window of a flower shop. Worried green eyes stared back at him, and he fought the urge to push his hair back to stare at the thick scar that was the cause of his father’s overprotectiveness. “I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t have a heart attack.”
“He’s not that old.”
“Sebastian.”
“Fine, fine. We can break the news together. I’ll even promise to keep an eye on you while you’re away.”
“He won’t buy that. Shelley College is nowhere near any of your usual routes.”
“Then I’ll change my usual routes. It’s not going to be as bad as you think.” A muffled female voice spoke in the background, and Sebastian sighed. “I have to go. Just a few errands before dinner, but I’ll be there. I promise.”
“This is going to be a disaster, but okay. See you later.” Rowan slipped the phone into his pocket and closed his fist around the crumpled brochure for the college. Shelley University was only two planets away, and only for the best and brightest. Rowan had sent off his transcript and one of his best inventions (a clockwork puppet) without telling anyone. He didn’t even know if he was accepted yet, and maybe he should wait for that letter. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth. It’d be better with Sebastian in town. At least there’d be one person in the room who supported him in this.
Sunlight glinting on metal caught his eye, and he turned to see a little blonde-haired girl playing with a robotic bird. It flew around her head, as smooth as the real thing. He smiled. His father’s inventions filled the town, some were helpful and changed the lives of their neighbors, but it was always the simpler ones that Rowan liked the most. They served no other purpose but to bring a little happiness to their tiny little town. He wanted nothing more than to follow in his father’s footsteps, to travel and invent, and maybe one day, far in the future, to carve out a simple life in a little town with the person he loved.
“I have to get to that college first.” He told himself as he went about his shopping, picking up some of his father’s favorites.
The sweet scent of freshly baked rolls and cakes wafted out onto the street, stopping him as he laid down coins on the latest vendor’s booth. He knew his father had been warned to take it easy with the sweets, but maybe, he’d be able to make an exception. Just this once. He missed the vendor’s sad eyes on him as he jogged over to the baker who stood outside, sweeping away wet leaves from the night before.
“Hey, Mr. Russo. Do you have any rum cakes today?” Rowan asked.
Mr. Russo rubbed his beard as he gave a strained smile. Inside his wife was ushering their two young children towards the back as they tried in vain to peek out the window. “Yeah, I think we have a few. Not for you, though, right?”
“Not for me.” Rowan grinned. “It’s for Dad. I’m thinking of attending Shelley College next year and wanted his blessing.”
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“Has he even adjusted to that young man you’re seeing?” Russo asked with a well-meaning smile.
“He’s okay with him.”
“And he knows what he does for a living?”
Rowan flushed. “That’s not the point here.”
Russo laughed. “I’ll see what I got in the back. You stay out here though, yeah?”
It wasn’t long before Russo returned with two medium boxes. He gently handed them off to Rowan who had to adjust his grip on the bag of groceries, nearly dropping them into the street as he struggled. “Let me know how it goes, alright, kid? And good luck.”
“Thanks. See ya.”
Rowan caught sight of a pretty young woman sitting outside her home with a book in her hand. He stopped, his heart in his throat. He hadn’t seen much of Thalia since his accident, but before then they had been as close as siblings. He missed her, but before he could decide to go over to her, she glanced up and paled. She looked away from him as she gathered herself up and rushed back inside, not sparing a backwards glance as she slammed the door. Her mother who had been tending the garden outside gave him a look then sadly shook her head.
He felt the inexplicable urge to apologize. A lot of his friends had stopped wanting to be around him, but Thalia’s cold shoulder hurt the worse. He tried to think back to his accident, but it was a fuzzy mess of blood and pain, and wondered if he had done something to make them hate him for it. Almost dying had a way of changing people, as his father always told him. His friends would come around sooner or later, but if Rowan went off to the university, he was sure it’d be much later before things went back to normal. If they ever did.
The walk home took twice as long as he dragged his feet. His little two-story house rose before him, the same melancholy blue his mother had painted it years earlier before she’d gotten sick. He recalled the way the blue had stained her hands, how she had laughed as she painted a single stripe down Rowan’s cheek. How she had painted the hands of both her sons so they could forever have their handprints at the base of the front steps. A surge of grief threatened to overwhelm him as he started up the steps, surprised to see the front door already hanging open.
“Dad?” He called as he set the groceries down in the kitchen.
He glanced out the window to see his neighbor staring at him from hers, a bony hand fisted in her curtains, wrinkled face set in a permanent scowl. The lanterns on her porch swayed in the still air. He turned away, unnerved, and started as his phone’s alarm sounded, a reminder to take his medicine. Since his accident, he had grown to rely on injections and alarms, his father’s fears fueling his own. Without it, he’d die. They both knew it.
The silence in the house felt more pressing. Even when no one was home, it was never quiet, not with their various inventions and the ticking of the living room clock. He crept from the kitchen, into the darkened living room. He flipped on the light and froze. A knife had been taken to the furniture, the couch and chairs in tatters. Bullet holes embedded in the wall next to the shattered clock, and pictures of their family (before his brother left, before his mother’s death) laid in pieces on the floor. Dread enveloped him as he picked his way through the mess to retrieve one of the pictures, one when he and his brother were kids, their parents grinning behind them. Carefully, he slipped it from the broken frame, folded it, and placed it in his pocket.
The rest of the house was similarly destroyed. His father’s trophies and inventions, innocent pillows and pictures, every drawer overturned. Rowan peeked in his room, hoping to find an explanation amongst any of the wreckage, but all that caught his eye were the broken vials of his injections scattered across the floor. A thin thread of fear coursed through him before he shook himself. His father could be missing or hurt; that was the important thing.
He found himself back in the kitchen, the groceries and cakes still sitting innocently on the counter, ready to be put away. Ready for the dinner Rowan had planned, ready for the conversation he had prepared. But now he was alone in an empty house, hoping his dad would walk in at any moment and question its ransacked state. A flutter of red caught his attention. His footsteps grew heavier with dread as he walked back to the front door, noticing now that it hadn’t just been left open but that it had nearly been ripped from its hinges. A notice, red as blood, had been nailed to the door.
“The house of Patrick Graham and all subsequent occupants are under investigation following multiple reports of unethical behavior and the unlawful use of certain artificial intelligence far beyond those permitted by the AI Committee and in violation of Frankenstein’s Law. All inventions and/or suspicious materials will be seized and destroyed in a timely manner. Anyone seen on the premises will be immediately arrested. As ordered by the Intergalactic Peace Corps.”
“No.” Rowan whispered as he yanked down the notice. “No, no, no.”
The Intergalactic Peace Corps, or IPC, were anything but peaceful. They upheld the law with a viciousness that had even law-abiding citizens fearful of even the slightest infractions. Rowan had seen the officers on the docks more than a few times, their stoic officiality giving him plenty of reason to avoid them, but he knew the stories as well as any. But it made little sense that they would be arresting anyone on his planet, seeing as how they were one of many who had signed the Neutrality Treaty which forbade the IPC (and others like them) from patrolling the area. The Neutrality Treaty also gave asylum to any refugees or criminals which was why Sebastian and his crew were able to come and go as they pleased without any worries.
“Frankenstein’s Law.” He read the notice again. The law that forbade people from bringing those they’ve lost back from the dead. You could make AI’s, robots and androids, it didn’t matter, but real, human life was too precious to toy with. There was no way his dad was guilty; who was he have supposed to brought back? No one in their town had died and been resurrected, and the only one his dad would have broken such a sacred law for was still buried underneath the old oak tree in the cemetery.
Outside, he heard the tell-tale sounds of heavy boots upon the ground. He ducked out of sight and peeked around the corner to see the blinding white uniforms of the peace corps marching right towards him. He kept his head low and crept back into the kitchen as he pulled out his phone. Sebastian’s number lit up as Rowan hovered his finger over it. Fear crawled its way through him, threatening to freeze him to the ground or send him hiding somewhere, but he’d only be caught if he stayed. All he wanted was to hear a familiar voice, telling him that this was all just a misunderstanding.
He leaned up to peer out the kitchen window and found the officers pulling out their weapons and knew, deep down, that someone had told them he was here. His thumb tapped Sebastian’s number and opened a new message.
The sky exploded then with dozens of bright blue flares. Some skyship in trouble, most likely, but to Rowan, they were familiar and so very lovely. With the distraction, Rowan sent a silent thanks to whichever ship had sent them as he raced out the back door, no longer caring if he was seen or heard. For a few moments, the officers stayed crouched in his front yard, blinded by the lights, while Rowan tore off towards the docks. As he passed his neighbor’s house, he caught her hawk-like eyes watching him and knew she’d been the one to give him away.