Man Made Boy (11 page)

“Why would you stay? To follow in your father’s footsteps here, placating temperamental actresses and repelling magic-addled humans? Accepting your place at the bottom of the social ladder in a tiny, bitter, narrow-minded lot of has-beens? Existing entirely at the mercy of a manic-depressive vampire? Does that sound like a good choice to you?”

“The alternative does not seem much better.”

“Ah, yes. Your father has spoken to me of that. Switzerland.”

“Yes.”

“And this doesn’t sound appealing to you?”

“No.”

She ran her fingers through my hair. My skull throbbed with pressure now, making it difficult to think.

“Why has your father chosen this path for you?”

“I don’t know.”

“No? Surely you can guess, though.”

“Perhaps when I am fully myself again.”

“Let me suggest something for you to ponder in the meantime. Could it be that your father is not sending you to Geneva for your good, but for his? I imagine that he would have loved to have been accepted into the Frankenstein family, studying at the University of Geneva…. Perhaps he daydreams of it sometimes.”

“He has never spoken to me of it.”

“No, of course not.” She leaned in close, her dry, glistening snakeskin lips brushing my ear. The roar of pressure in my head grew so strong I could barely hear her voice. “Think of this,
though. He has created a being almost exactly like himself, only smaller, neater, less threatening. You. And he has offered you up to the Frankensteins, almost like a…promise?”

“A promise of what?”

“What would your father give to unite his family with the Frankensteins? His firstborn son, perhaps?”

“I…I do not know. I cannot…”

A smile curled up on one side of her mouth. “Oh, dear. I think I may have pushed you a bit too far. Ah, well. I think you see my point. Or you will in a few minutes. It’s time to grow up and start thinking for yourself, little Boy. It’s time to start your journey. Not on your father’s path, but your own.”

She glided back to her divan.

“You may go. This has been extremely stimulating. I think I’ll have a nap now.”

I left the dressing room and headed home. I still had no sense of urgency, even though my skull was screaming with pressure. It needed release. But I knew the moment Mom removed the clamp…

NOW, I LAY on the floor with my face pressed against the cold, rock floor as I rode out the last dregs of the storm of emotions. After feeling so unbearably full, I now felt completely empty. I slowly sat up and looked around at our tiny, little, rundown windowless apartment. Charon had gone at some point, so it was just Mom and me.

“How are you?” she asked.

“Tired.”

“Do you…want to talk about it?”

“Not now, Mom.”

She nodded, and touched the side of my face with her hand.

“Sorry,” she said.

“It’s not your fault,” I said.

She stared at me, and all of a sudden I wished so much that she could express herself. A smile, a frown—anything other than vague surprise. Instead, she just nodded again and turned to the kitchen.

“Your father will be home soon. I need to make dinner.”

I LAY IN my bed, my mind racing from the endorphins brought on by the emotional backlash pain. Was Medusa right? Was my father sending me to live with the Frankensteins so I could live out some fantasy of his? I bet he hadn’t even checked if there was a good computer science program there. And he probably expected me to kiss their monster-killing asses the entire time I was there. No, going to Geneva was completely out now. It made me angry just thinking about it.

But staying here wasn’t any better. Now I knew firsthand what Dad went through every single night. There was no way I could do that. But what else was there for me?

I looked over at my computer and realized that I already had my golden key.

I jacked in and launched my IRC client.

It was time to stop playing by everyone else’s rules. I was meant for better things than Ruthven’s assistant security guard or a rich Swiss family’s pet monster. It was time to show everybody what I could really do. It was time for my project to go live.

I worked pretty much nonstop from that point on. I hardly ate or slept. It was just energy drinks, runs to the bathroom, and coding. Before, it had seemed like the project still had a ways to go. But now that I was committed to finishing it, it came together in a matter of days. It was beautiful. Code wrote and refined itself. Text snaked through my virtual fingers like silk, pushing my computer’s CPU so hot you could cook an egg on the smooth casing. This was more than just poetry. I was writing a symphony, and when the world saw this, they would realize that they’d spent their entire lives on mute.

There was a problem, though. I had no idea what would happen when I deployed it. Not really. That was kind of the point, of course. True unpredictable programming action. But as cool as that sounded, there was a possibility that the surge alone from the initial launch would take down the entire local network and possibly the power grid as well. So I didn’t want to do it at the theater. I needed another location.

A few days later, poxd, surelee, and s1zzl3 all contacted me to say how blown away they were by the samples I’d sent. They all said they wanted to help, to be a part of it. So I told them I
needed a place to launch it from and also a place to crash for a night or two. That was the last I heard from surelee and s1zzl3. I guess the code didn’t scare them, but the idea of a real-life encounter did. But poxd said I could do it at his place. And it turned out, he lived nearby in Queens. It seemed perfect. I didn’t even really hesitate.

Well, okay, that’s not true. There was a moment. I was just finishing up some last bug checks on the source before I compiled it when my dad came into the room. He couldn’t see what I was doing. That’s one nice bonus about having your display plugged directly into the back of your head. But even if he had been able to see, he wouldn’t have understood what he was looking at.

“Boy,” he said quietly. He had to make an effort for his voice to sound quiet, so I knew he meant business. I unplugged and turned to look at him. He stood in the doorway, his head stooped to fit under the lintel.

“Hey, Dad.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Uh, fine. Why?”

“I want to make sure there is no problem after your…conversation with Medusa.”

“You mean when I had to get unplugged?” Maybe I sounded a little harsh, because he took a moment to respond.

“Yes,” he said finally.

“I’m fine. Now.”

“Okay.” He looked like he wanted to say something else. Or ask me something else. But he just stood there, filling the doorway for a moment longer. Then he nodded and turned, his shoulders just barely squeezing past on either side. It suddenly occurred to me what a huge pain in the ass it had to be for him to maneuver indoors, especially in narrow hallways or small, cramped rooms
like pretty much ninety percent of the space in The Show. That’s probably why he lived all those years in the Arctic. At least he’d been able to stretch out a bit there.

“Dad,” I said.

He stopped.

“Why are we here?”

He turned a little so that he could look at me, but not all the way back around.

“What do you mean? My job is here. Your mother’s job is here. The company needs us. The Show needs us.”

“But we don’t need
them
.”

“Not true.”

“What do they give us?”

“Safety.”

“I don’t want it,” I said.

“Because you do not know the dangers that are out there.”

“How could I? I’m stuck here with people who hate me because of what I am, and they’re all so small-minded. Like they’ve got blinders on. None of them gets it. None of them sees that there’s this whole world out there.”

“We have already spoken about this.” His big, uneven face hardened. “I understand you are restless. And that is why we have devised the plan for you to go to Geneva.”

“I don’t
want
to go to Geneva!” I said. “That’s
your
thing. I want to make my own way. I want to have my own life.”

“You are just a boy.” His voice was no longer quiet, no longer gentle. “You do not know what you want!”

“Dad—”

“ENOUGH!” The sound rattled every piece of electronics in the room. “Unless you wish to go nowhere at all, this conversation is over.” He turned sharply, his shoulder taking out a small
chunk of the door frame. Then he left.

I packed a duffel bag with some clothes, some self-repair tools, and my favorite computer.

The only person I said good-bye to was Liel, and that wasn’t on purpose. I don’t know whether she just happened to be hanging around the unlit lobby at two a.m. or what, but there she was, a dark silhouette with sparkling eyes and luminous hair.

We stood there looking at each other for a moment.

“Where will you go?” she asked.

“A friend’s house,” I said.

“You have friends out there?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Will…” She looked down so that her jewel eyes were hidden in the shadows. “Will you be back?”

“Maybe.”

I could faintly see her nod. “What…should I tell them?”

“Tell my mom I’m sorry. I don’t care what you tell the rest of them.”

Then I walked past her to the front doors.

“Boy,” I heard her say behind me.

I froze, hand halfway to the door handle. I knew, right then, that if she asked me to stay, I would.

But she just said:

“Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I said.

And that was it. I left The Show.