Gretta was already up when Hans came into the kitchen the next morning, still toweling his hair dry. She did not look happy.
“Look at this,” she said, turning the screen around. Hans leaned over.
“House sensor activity logs? So?”
“This is for the last three months, while we’ve been gone. And yet, according to the house computer, we’ve been home all this time.”
Hans studied the report. “Hmm, I’m very predictable in my habits. Up at precisely 8 a.m. every morning. Only five minutes in the bathroom. Five! Then twenty minutes in the kitchen for breakfast, presumably, and back to my room until lunchtime. I wonder what I get up to in there?”
“I suspect you stand in your closet staring at the inside of the door. Maybe you should try it some time,” Gretta said. “It’s a shame we don’t have any cameras in the house, but the garage camera shows us being taken for an outing in the flitter once in a while. Our beloved parents are smarter than I expected. They didn’t want to lose the child tax incentives from the government.”
Hans frowned. “So, what happens if we go to the police and tell them what Papa did? Some nice policeman or child welfare officer comes to have a little chat with Papa, and he says, ‘Oh, those poor children of mine, they haven’t been quite right since their mother died. They get such odd notions! We had to start home schooling them, you know. They got so homesick when they were away at boarding school. But don’t take my word for it, officer. You can see the house logs right here. I can assure you they’ve been here all summer!’”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“Then we show them the androids who look like us!”
“Some rich families employ body doubles as decoys in case of kidnapping. Papa could say that was what the androids are for. If the police don’t believe us, they’ll hand us straight back to Papa and Stefania, and next time they get rid of us they’ll do it properly.”
Gretta’s shoulders slumped. “I thought that if we could just get home everything would be okay. But we’re still not safe, are we? I wonder how long they’re planning to keep on with this charade. The smartest thing for them to do would be to arrange a terrible accident using the androids. Something that wouldn’t leave a recoverable body, but would have us declared dead. They could have the androids take the flitter for a joyride on autopilot and then crash it in a restricted zone where they wouldn’t send a recovery team in to retrieve the black box. Papa would inherit all that money Mama left that’s supposed to go to us when we turn eighteen, plus those life insurance policies he conveniently took out on us three months ago. I’ve got into his email. He’s in a lot of financial trouble. Too many stupid investments, mostly with one or another of Stefania’s little friends.”
“We’re going to need a plan B then.”
“I think the safest option is to go live somewhere far away from here for a couple of years. Then when we reappear after they’ve officially declared us dead, the police will believe there’s something going on. Once we’re sixteen, we can have ourselves officially emancipated. But we need some money, and a place to go until then.”
“I know where there’s a lovely house we could use,” Hans said, grinning. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I know we can’t go back there. You just figure out how to siphon some credit out of Papa’s accounts and I’ll research destinations.”