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The Derivative Saga #1: Neocopy
Chapter 3: No Reward for the Rich

Chapter 3: No Reward for the Rich

A family car picked Aiden up from the metro station and drove him the rest of the way home.

The driver, a middle-aged white man named McCourt, gave a passing glance at Aiden's face. The medicine Markus had given him was fast-acting, but a slightly yellow discoloration lingered.

"Having a good time at school, young master?" he said casually. "Punch any more VIPs on the metro ride over?"

"Very funny, McCourt. I know I'm in trouble. My parents wouldn't send their deputy head of security if they didn't want to guarantee I would get back quickly."

"In light of everything, their concern seems warranted."

"You're not my minder."

"With all due respect, sir, I hope to God to never be considered for that position. Though it seems like you might be in need of one."

"Would you mind not staring too far up into the rearview mirror? That hair coming out your right nostril is gigantic."

The man chuckled. "Right, I'll drop it, then. I know you've had quite a day."

Aiden glowered out the window. The car quickly made it way from the city center, and soon the clogged streets changed into fields of holographic grass and synthetic turf.

The Huang mansion sat atop a hill in the middle of the 19th Borough, Sector 9, commonly known as the Sunstrip for the line of globe-like, golden hydroelectric generators stretching from one of Neocopy's many artificial waterways to the ocean beyond. Built in the Victorian style from the 1800s, it had been maintained for five generations of the Huang family, surviving wars, coups, environmental disasters, and (historically) hefty property taxes.

Over the years, it had been retrofitted for maximum security and privacy. Its three major towers just peeked over the cypress trees planted in a large garden on the rear side, the foliage giving a natural cover for privacy. Miniature machine gun turrets concealed under the windowsills commanded one hundred eighty-degree views of every inch outside the doors. The complex itself was encompassed by three layers of walls: an energy field shimmering in a near-invisible dome, a fifteen-foot high titanium barrier fitted with individual laser locks every hundred feet, and coral-hued cobblestone on the outermost border — for decoration.

To an outsider, the place looked like a beautifully sculpted (if a bit intimidating) fortress. At the moment, it looked to Aiden like a trap.

As the car approached the gate, a panel monitor lit up in the side of the wall. McCourt rolled down his window and exposed his face to the retinal scanner. A moment later, the laser-locks switched off and the gate's double-paneled doors slid aside to admit them, the speed at which they moved belying their thickness.

The door revealed two guards standing in alcove stations embedded into the walls, each cradling shotguns in their arms. McCourt nodded to the guard with her hand on the controls; they were yet another line of defense should the automated scanners fail, and possessing manual oversight of the energy shield surrounding the mansion, which Aiden's car now passed through with only an audible hum in his sternum announcing its presence.

"You're to go straight to the third-floor drawing room," said McCourt, guiding the car along the courtyard driveway. The road sloped gently down one of the complex's many underground parking and storage garages. "Your mother and father are waiting with the mistress."

"Got it." Aiden checked his face in the car window's reflector panel. By this time, the swelling around his eye was nearly gone. If it weren't for the fact that the school had already notified his parents about the fight, it would be like Aiden had never been hit.

McCourt sighed. "Aiden, just tell them the truth and promise you will do better. They will understand."

"I'm not getting into an argument before the argument, McCourt."

"All I'm saying is you could try listening to what they're asking of you. They've been under a great deal of stress lately, what with all the new security measure we've had to take..."

"What security measures?" said Aiden quickly.

McCourt's mouth opened, then closed. "Never mind."

Aiden pushed car door open. "See, this is why there's a 'deputy' in your title. You have a hard time keeping your mouth shut."

"And you have a problem with keeping your attitude in check, young master," said McCourt, rather sharply. "It makes it difficult for people to be on your side."

Aiden paused. "All right, sorry. But speaking of promises, you'll use that new heat razor Tancy and I gave you, right? We bought it for a reason."

"I'm touched by how much thought you two put into my nasal hygiene," remarked McCourt dryly.

"The hair's just...really obvious. It's thicker than the fiber-optic cables I have to use in lab."

"I get it, Aiden."

--

The first thing Aiden noticed upon entering the drawing room was the state of his little sister's clothes. She was slumped in a chair with her hands tucked beneath her bottom whenever she got upset, looking for all intents and purposes as if she had cannonball-dived into a kiddie pool of tar, paint, and mulch. Her school uniform was drenched several shades of black-and-brown muck; her short dark hair gave off an oily sheen; and a rainbow assortment of plasma-like gel streaked across her face and neck like war paint.

"So...Holy Terror #1 has finally arrived," said Aiden's mother darkly.

She and Aiden's father stood on the other side of the long table in the center of the high-ceilinged room. They were still in their business attire — the same mechanical-looking gray-and-black suit-coats that were the standard formal wear in Neocopy — though Aiden knew from the ID records from the front gate that they'd been back home for over five hours, while Aiden had still been in school.

Because he wasn't privy to their working life, ever since the age of eleven, Aiden had begun tracking his parents' comings and goings in an attempt to get a handle on their seemingly non-stop business schedule. Once, he might've used the information to make sure he was home the same time they were; even a few minutes a day was better than nothing. Now the records served as a notification for when Aiden had a parent-free weekend.

Strictly speaking, he was not allowed to tamper with the home security system, but was it really tampering if the information was merely being passively uploaded to his cyberware?

"I know what you've heard," said Aiden to his parents. "But if we're going by appearances, Tancy looks way more guilty right now."

"Sit down, Aiden," said his father.

"I'm not saying she deserves it, it's just a bad look."

"I said, sit. Is that a sandwich you're eating?"

Aiden glanced down at the synth-pastrami-and-cheese sub in his hand, which, courtesy of the mansion's round-the-clock cooking staff, was stuffed with radishes and pickled cucumbers. "I haven't had anything since this morning."

He bit down with a loud crunch that echoed off the marble tiles of the high-ceilinged room, then glanced over at his sister. "What did you do? Take a dip in the septic disposal tank?"

Tancy didn't answer. Three years younger than Aiden, she attended a separate institution named Exsupero Prep, named after the CEO of a major quantum computer chip company that created it. Like Terminary, it was one of Neocopy's few magnet middle schools for the highly gifted and status-endowed children of the city. It also had a strict uniform policy, one that preached physical cleanliness like church gospel and gave out punishments for dress code violations to match. But Aiden knew Tancy wasn't stupid enough to be so sloppy.

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"We're very disappointed," said Mrs. Huang. "In both of you. It's bad enough when we have to deal with the usual suspect —" she directed a pointed glance at Aiden — "but you, Tancy? We expected more."

Tancy mumbled something under her breath.

"What was that? Speak up."

Her voice was small, but defiant. "I didn't mean for anything to happen."

"Of course you didn't mean to, Tancy — but that's not the point. You can't be letting strangers into your school like that. It's dangerous."

"He said he was thirsty! I couldn't give him a water bottle or liquid supplement through the front gate, so I thought that I could hand it to him through one of the side entrances. I didn't know he would...you know..."

Mr. Huang scoffed. "What did you expect when you let in riffraff like that? Water, you say? You can get that at a purify station at any corner mart in the city. What made you think he was dying of thirst? He probably wanted to steal something, Tancy, or worse."

"Hang on," said Aiden, lowering his sandwich and casting an incredulous glance at Tancy. "You let a hobo into your school? In the middle of the day?"

"Don't try to change the subject," said Mrs. Huang sharply. "You're in just as much trouble, if not more."

"Yeah, Devon was talking shit, so I made him eat some. We may have even punched each other a couple times. What happened after Tancy let that guy in?"

Mrs. Huang sighed. "Your sister admitted an unknown man onto campus via a custodial entrance, where he then proceeded to ransack four convenience machines, rampage through several classrooms, disrupt a construction project in the recreational area, and spill over four-thousand-unit's-worth of chroma-ziv. Campus security eventually found him in one of the chemistry labs attempting to create a concoction of psychedelics from cabinet supplies of baking soda, ziv fluid, and hydrochloric acid. Tancy, to her credit —"

"And reckless stupidity —" interjected Mr. Huang.

" — tried to stop him. In the process, she fell into a vat of chroma-ziv herself."

"When you say they found 'him'..." said Aiden. "...do you mean a puddle of guts?"

"Security apprehended the man before he could partake of anything. In any case, he broke into a student lab — the mixtures were heavily diluted."

"And for the record, he only broke into two convenience machines," said Tancy sullenly.

"And what if he had not been some bum off the street?" said Mrs. Huang sternly. "What if it had been someone more focused, someone with a more serious goal to get into the school and cause all means of harm to you and other students? Whether it was one or a thousand convenience machines that were broken, it doesn't change the fact that — Aiden, would you stop eating that sandwich and listen?!"

Aiden, who had been steadily munching throughout, made a show of taking one last bite out of the synth-pastrami sub — filling the air with a magnificent, juicy-sounding crunch — before placing the remnants of his sandwich on the table.

Swallowing with a theatrical gulp, he briskly brushed crumbs off his hands. "Let me get this straight: Tancy lets some guy off the street run around her school damaging property and cooking up drugs, while I get into it with some dude openly threatening our family, and I'm the one that's a problem."

"Both of you are," said Mr. Huang. "You are simply even more so. But the individual severity of these two incidents means nothing next to the pattern of behavior it signifies. For a while now, both of you have developed a stunted sense of responsibility and woeful disregard for your own security. These past few years, it's like you've lost your common sense — and if you blame us, I would agree. Your mother and I made a grave mistake in letting you have so much freedom in your lives...but from now on, you'll be accompanied by escorts from the security staff to and from school. Any sports and club events will be held with one of McCourt's men in attendance. Your schedules will be more closely monitored, your transportation will be supervised —"

"You're really making us get bodyguards?" interrupted Aiden, outraged. "I already have Auxy and my enhancements. This is so lame!"

At the same time, Tancy was protesting, "I can't go to my corporate demilitarization club with security guys — do you know how embarrassing that would be?"

"Better embarrassed than dead or held for ransom," Mrs. Huang countered. "And what are you complaining for, Aiden? You said yourself that Devon was threatening harm against you, why would you be against having more protection?"

"Because...because..." Aiden spluttered. He floundered, struggling for words; then, as if it were being torn from his throat, he exclaimed: "Because I'm the eldest boy and the successor to this company! I should be learning the ins and outs of our business operations, not wasting time in school writing pointless essays on...on ancient Greek sculptures nobody but the teacher will see — or taking programming tests I could pass in my sleep — or sharing airspace with a bunch of brainless, trust-fund snobs who'd be unable to tell the difference between ziv fluid and carbonated water if it was squirted up their noses! It's time I start learning how to take charge as head of the family's future, not to be chaperoned around like some baby!"

Months of frustration poured out of him, boiling over into words he had never consciously thought but now dazzled into being with the clarity of his convictions. Couldn't they see that he was only doing what he did because he was bored? That his talents and energies could be much better spent shepherding the family fortune to even greater heights?

By the time he was finished, the room was dead silent. Tancy was gawking at him in horrified amusement.

Aiden, breathing hard, waited for his parents to respond. They exchanged resigned glances. Mrs. Huang let out a deep sigh.

"You are the eldest boy," said Mr. Huang stiffly. "The other part — we're not too sure."

"What are you talking about?" said Aiden, looking back and forth between the two of them.

"We've recently come to the decision," said Mrs. Huang quietly. "That it might be best if neither of you should be eligible taking executive positions within the company. And of the two of you, should our positions on this issue change, it is Tancy that we think would be best suited for the role of CEO."

"Hang on...you can't be serious..."

"We've made preliminary arrangements to alter our wills," said Mr. Huang. "Right after we heard about your latest stunt. Your conduct has made it obvious you're not ready for any sort of management responsibility, now or in the near future."

"I've been asking for that kind of responsibility since I was six!" yelled Aiden. "What about the all the time I spent learning the distribution network to all the hospitals we deliver to in Neocopy? What about the reports I drafted for optimizing the inventory organization algorithms of regenerative spinal serum components at the Second Borough supply plants?!"

"You turned in that report nearly a month overdue and the research was riddled with errors. With your recommendations, the monthly supply would run out in a month because the system would've given out the serum twice to the same patient. If you're not yet aware, people don't grow two spines."

"At least I still did it!"

"Do you really think that's all it takes?" added Mrs. Huang. "Showing up and giving minimal effort, expecting to be rewarded for shoddy work? You've shown little interest in the actual details of the job beyond the title, and you know it."

"I'd be hundred times better at the job than Tancy! She doesn't have the technical ability. You definitely know that!"

"Maybe not," said Tancy, her voice trembling. "But I know I'd use company resources more wisely, and not earn profit for profit's sake."

"And how would you do that, exactly?" said Aiden contemptuously. "Buy every non-AIEN employee of ours a robot kitten with solar panels on its back?"

"We're not increasing the charity percentage of the budget, Tancy," said Mrs. Huang sternly.

"That's exactly what's wrong with this company!" said Tancy angrily. "And this whole city! We have enough for ourselves already. Why don't we give back more? Why don't we use the power and influence the company has to make the city a better place for everybody? Why don't we do something to make thinks like purify stations more accessible?"

Aiden's father closed his eyes in impatience. "Who do you think lobbied for the initiative to install those purify stations in the first place, Tancy? Who do you think offered financing to speed up the design process? Do you think the Neocopy city council woke up one day and decided, for once, to not dream up a law that would add to their coffers? I don't think you two realize how much time and effort your mother and I spend to accomplish exactly what you're yelling about.

"Do you know how many patents we license for open-source, when we could very well keep all our technological advantages for ourselves? How much resources we expend in managing nonprofits, funding immunotherapy research, rebuilding public infrastructure — really, anything aimed in leveraging the profits the company makes to leave a positive mark with our lives?

"And what are you doing with yours, exactly? Letting in one lone addict to trash your school? Or you, Aiden — picking fights over empty words? What do you want to make of your life?"

"Why do you care what I should be doing with my life?" said Aiden bitterly. "It's not like either of you are around much, anyway."

Shock registered briefly on his parents' faces before they settled into new postures. Mr. Huang's jaw clenched, and Mrs. Huang bowed her head slightly; for a second Aiden thought he saw a look of guilt flash across her delicate features.

Just then, a door slid open behind them with a soft hiss, and two people in house-help uniforms stepped in. One was a woman with brown hair tied up in a bun and a blue e-board floating over one nail-polished hand. The other was a sallow man with slickly combed-over hair.

"Gentlemen Huang," said the man, glancing quickly at the children. "Lady Huang. They've called for you."

A jolt seemed to go through Mrs. Huang's body. "Is it a final confirmation?"

"Y-yes, but...er..." stammered the woman, casting a meaningful glance at Tancy and Aiden.

"We'll discuss this in private," said Mr. Huang, shooting an irritated look at Mrs. Huang. "Thank you, Kenzie. We'll be there right away." He turned back to Aiden. "We love you and your sister very much, and because of that, you will be responsible for any more funny business you pull. If Principal Pakkel decides to expel you, we won't interfere. It's time you begin to know the real world."

To Tancy, he said, "The same goes for you. Kind intentions only get you so far. And if you think that's too harsh, think again. It's for your own good."

At this, he and Mrs. Huang strode out of the room, leaving their two children alone at the table.