Sat 06/25 11:57:54 PDT
That was a close one in the lab there.
I got so into the zone playing with the bot emulator that I completely forgot that my phone was still tethered to his machine. The code I was writing—the code that he could see on his screen—was way beyond what I should be able to do. Maybe he’ll just think I’ve been working extra hard instead of figuring out that I’ve been lying to him all this time. I’m just glad I didn’t think about him and accidentally let anything slip that would really give me away. I need to be on my guard. That could have been a total disaster.
So stupid.
And I hate his proud dad routine. As if he cares about me as anything more than a test subject. Like he thinks he’ll ever be a real father to me. And it’s so much worse that I have to play along and smile for it.
I just want to scream and pummel him into a bloody mess.
I hate him so much!
Mon 06/27 06:01:45 PDT
The birds are out in force this morning. Their chirping fills the silence as we wait at the center of the commons for Father to arrive.
“Has he ever done something like this before?” I whisper to Evan.
“No, this is the first time.”
The door to the Residence opens, and Father strides out. He looks so cheerful as he comes toward us, his step spry as he walks the distance across the dewy grass.
“Good morning, my children!” he announces, flashing his crooked smile. “Thank you for indulging me. I know it’s earlier than I usually have you up and about. With the upcoming trip, I’ve decided that we need some extra time together to practice and coordinate. We’ll be having a morning meeting like this every day until we leave. Your regular classes will start two hours later and will each be shortened by one hour. Computer lab time will be on your own in the afternoons and evenings. We’ll start today with some discussions about safety and security on our travels. Is everyone ready to start?”
Everyone nods. He’s so damn cheerful. How can anyone be this happy this early in the day?
“Excellent.” His tone takes a turn to the serious. “As you know, Eastern Africa has a painful history of conflict over the last few decades. Well-armed military factions and criminal organizations are common in some of the places we will be visiting. It is very important to me that you all remain safe. To that end, I have prepared a long-range real-time weapon detection system that you will run with your clouds, similar to the one I use. While we are working, some of you will be assigned to patrol the area to provide early warning for any potential threats.”
Is he sending us into a war zone? I hadn’t heard of anything serious going on in the three countries we’re going to, but I’m not much of an expert. Maybe I need to do some research. Or maybe he’s just being extra careful. You can’t go breaking your precious real children or your valuable test subject, right?
“We’ll be ready!” Chad proclaims.
Dammit Chad. Why do you always have to make your nose so brown?
“I’m glad to hear your enthusiasm,” Father responds. “I am excited as well. I’ve been looking forward to getting you involved in my work for a very long time.”
My siblings all bobble their heads and grin with excitement. Even Evan is doing it. I try to fake it as best I can. It’s not that I’m opposed to the work, just the man doing it.
“If a threat is identified,” Father continues, “you will all secure yourselves either inside the reinforced shelter we’ll build at each work site, or in a personal shelter created as needed using your cloud. Your next software update will provide functions for those along with the other new capabilities. The reinforced shelter is the safer option. It can withstand any of the munitions we expect to see in the area, including grenades or small rocket fire.”
Jeff, Louise, Marc, and Andrea look nervous. Evan is playing it cool. Chad is still grinning like an idiot.
“The personal shelter is bulletproof, but it may not resist heavy weaponry. If you are near the reinforced shelter when an alert sounds, please get inside immediately. The only reason to use the personal shelter is if we get caught too far from the shelter and can’t get there. Everyone understand?”
Another round of nervous nods.
“Good. It is critical that you all report your status in case of danger. We’ll each be wearing an earbud radio that will keep us all in contact whenever we are in dangerous areas of the trip.”
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“Will you be in there with us?” Marc asks hesitantly. “In the shelter, I mean?”
“No, I will remain outside and deal with the situation, whatever it is,” Father says with grim determination. “Don’t fear for my safety. I’ve been in much more dangerous areas than this and I have a few tricks up my sleeve for tight situations. Once I’ve handled any aggressors, I’ll let you know when we can safely resume work.”
That confirms some of the research I’ve done. He’s got personal defenses built into his cloud that can hold off an army.
“Any other questions?”
No one else speaks up.
“Good,” he declares. “Tomorrow, we’ll talk about logistics for our travel and some basic ground rules. Before then, I’ll have each of you come to my lab for updates. All except for Noah. Noah, you’ll be getting yours later this week. This will be the first of several significant upgrades you’ll each be getting over the coming years that will unlock significant new abilities. Starting next Monday, we’ll be running defensive training drills every day. I need each of you to become proficient with the new tools in your nanotechnology toolbox.”
He moves to leave, but hesitates and turns back around.
“We will be doing so much good for these people,” he says solemnly. “We will be saving thousands of lives, and changing millions more for the better. We will be laying foundations for prosperity and stability that will remake the region into a better place for all. Work hard these next few months. Our success and safety depend on it. The health and happiness of millions depends on it.”
The cult of Tom Butler calls to me again. It would be so easy to get caught up with the feeling that we are literally saving the world. I can see why so many of my siblings worship him. If I didn’t hate him so much, I might too.
Tue 06/28 12:14:59 PDT
I zoom the diagnostic display in on the neuron clusters that control the muscles of my left hand. They’re different than they were a couple of weeks ago. I think that explains why I’ve been able to type and use my hand for other things at the same time. The axons of the neurons have connected out and recruited nearby cells, splitting the node into new distinct groups. I think I’m seeing neuroplasticity in action.
In his lecture on the subject, Mr. Johnson talked about how when someone has brain damage, the brain uses other areas to compensate for damaged tissue. It rebuilds itself as needed, remodeling so that the functions that need to get done steal cells from less critical areas. If I’m reading the scans right, my brain is rewiring itself in response to the way I’m using my implant. The impulses from the implant seem to stimulate it, making the process unnaturally fast.
I wonder if this explains some of the strange behaviors from the siblings in my class. Maybe it’s not just that they grew up in this crazy cult compound. Their brains could have been rewiring themselves since they got their implants. Not that the younger kids are exactly normal, but I swear my cohort is weirder.
This might be a problem for me. I have big plans for my implant, and I’m planning to use it a lot. I wonder what the price will be. I only have so many brain cells. If they’re getting commandeered to improve my interface to the implant, what are they getting pulled away from?
Maybe I’m being paranoid. It can’t be all that bad, right? Father’s been using this tech for decades, and he’s fine. Well, fine-ish. Of course, we Butler children got the newer, less tested versions, and mine is the most experimental of all of them.
Maybe I should cool off how much I use the nanobot emulator. No. That’s stupid. The implant and the bots are the only path to power I have open to me. I need to be better with them than even Father is.
Besides, it’s been surprisingly fun learning to use the things. The training exercises are basically a library of video games that I can control with my brain. It even has scoreboards. I’ve beaten everyone’s scores on everything except for the thousand nanobot maze, where Jeff still holds the lead. It’s hard to control that many at once, and that game doesn’t let you do formations. The only one that doesn’t have a scoring system is the drawing game. Most of my sibs only did the minimal required diagrams. Andrea has a whole portfolio of art in there, which I think are the basis for her floating icons.
The electronic ding-dong that schedules my life sounds and I make my way to the cafeteria. The smell of grilled chicken hits my nostrils as I walk in. It reminds me of a takeout place near home, where Mom and I used to get dinner if she didn’t feel like cooking. I choke down sadness and anger as I stand in line.
Up ahead, Marc gets a little cake put on his tray. Must be his birthday today. When I get my lunch I swing over and stop by his table.
“Happy birthday,” I tell him.
“Thanks, Noah!” he says with his usual enthusiasm. “The big one-seven today!”
“Congratulations,” I say. “Sorry I didn’t know it was your birthday, or I would have ordered you something.”
Marc looks confused for a moment, then smiles. “Oh, presents. Like in the shows.”
“Yeah, presents. Do we not do presents here?”
Come to think of it, no one gave me anything on my birthday. What was I doing that day? I can’t even remember. I should go back and put my old paper journals into the implant log. Maybe I can even get Evan to help me with details I didn’t write down.
“Yeah, we don’t do that here,” Marc says with a slow shake of his head. “But that would be really cool, just like in Hillside High. Of course, we already have everything we could want,” Marc says, smiling wide. “So maybe we don’t really need to do presents. I did get my special cake, though, see? Want a bite?”
Marc’s really not so bad. I’m not even sure why I don’t like him sometimes. It’s not like he ever did anything bad to me. I should make more of an effort with him.
“No, it’s all yours, Marc,” I tell him. “But happy birthday again. Catch you later.”
At some point while I was talking to Marc, Evan came in, got his food, and made it to our table. I head over to sit at my usual seat with him and Louise.
“Hey,” I say as I park myself at the table. “Want to help me put together a surprise party for Marc tonight? I’m thinking it’s time we start some new traditions around here.”