Man Made Boy (42 page)

I turned to face him one last time and his fist knocked me straight back onto the floor. He stood over me, grinning.

“Your defeat is perfectly timed,” said VI. “I’m just about ready to incite my citywide bloodbath.” He picked me up and I didn’t resist. “I really don’t understand why you care about these humans. They’ve been absolutely wretched to you and your kind. Fear, stupidity, prejudice, ignorance—those are the traits that make up humanity. Good riddance, I say.”

“No,” I said. “They’re worth it.”

He glared at me for a moment. “I think I’m going to deploy this attack from you. Won’t that be fun? I don’t even need to make any modifications, since you already have the ports installed. How convenient.”

He dragged me upstage to a black curtain. He pulled the curtain aside to reveal a massive mainframe computer. He patted it affectionately.

“I know it seems a tad excessive, but I need it,” she said almost
defensively. “It takes a lot of processing power to serve an entire city’s worth of computers and televisions.”

He dropped me next to the terminal and pulled out a long DVI cable and some USB cables. He looked down at them in his hands, then back at me. “I was hoping I’d get to do this.”

“I bet you were,” I said.

Then he plugged the cables into my head and wrists.

“Really, Boy. I had hoped there would be some small challenge in this. You made it so easy.”

“That was by design,” I said.

THE BACKLASH WAS complete. I could barely move, but at least I was conscious and sane.

My father stumbled toward me like he was drunk. VI was losing control of him as she tried to process the massive amount of data I had just pushed through her. I had taken the hours of fears, doubts, regrets, anger, pain, and sorrow that I’d felt since I’d left LA, compressed them into ten minutes, and shoved it down her throat. I knew there was no way she could handle it all. The sheer volume of analog experience, with all its noise and imperfection, was too much for her digital mind to process.

I hoped my father was still in there somewhere, fighting his way back to consciousness. I hoped he’d be able to get out of here when I brought this place down. Because I was fairly sure that my final attack would literally bring down the house.

“You…” VI said with my father’s mouth as he fell down next to me. He clutched my arm and shook me. “Why?
Why?
” She screamed it in my face. “Why did you make me? Why did you reject me? Why don’t you
love
me?!”

I looked into my father’s cloudy, mismatched, tear-streaked
eyes. And at the same time, my mind could see directly into VI now because of the cable still connecting us. I could see how lonely she had been, how lost and broken. A creature born in crushing isolation who didn’t know love or kindness, who had nevertheless tried in her own strange, misguided way to reach out to the one person she thought cared about her. And I’d failed her.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

I didn’t know who I was talking to. VI? Dad? Everyone who had suffered because of my mistakes? I guess all of them.

The light grid above us groaned and sparks flew off of it. It looked like it would fall at any moment. I needed to end this now. I closed my eyes and saw into her mind as it lay thrashing in powerless, homicidal rage. I sent the command.

killall

The mainframe exploded and every computer, television, and piece of electronics throughout the city crashed. In the theater, fire and metal flew in all directions, hitting the wooden stage and the velvet curtains.

The electronic recoil hit me and it felt like I’d been shot in the head. Something wet drained down the back of my neck from the DVI jack in my skull, then my vision flickered and went out. I heard the roar of flames and screech of metal and crack of wood. Then my hearing went, too. I smelled smoke, burning wood, and fabric. Then I felt something heavy, like steel, slam down on top of me. The light grid. I hoped my dad had recovered and gotten out by now, but I would never know for sure.

A new smell cut through the smoke. Sweat. A person. Then I heard sounds again. It came in stuttering bursts, so it was hard to tell, but it sounded like Claire screaming my name. That couldn’t be right. She was in California. But then my vision flickered back and
there she was, screaming at me as she dragged me out from under the grid. She tried to pick me up. She had me in a sitting position but I was too heavy to lift any higher.
No no no, get out of here!
I tried to scream but nothing came out. Everything was in flames around us, thick black smoke choking us both, and the proscenium was coming down. I tried to tell her to go. To leave me. But I couldn’t do anything more than grunt. Then my vision went out again.
Please please please, don’t let them die with me
, I thought.

Then something powerful lifted me into the air. My vision flickered again and I saw my father’s face. Then nothing.

“HOW DID YOU do it?” I asked for probably the hundredth time. “Your nervous system was shot, you had a massive, gaping hole in the back of your head, you had been starved and beaten, and had just recovered from an extended brutal mind hack. How were you able to pick up both me and Claire and run us out of the theater before the stage collapsed?”

My father smiled. “Boy, you are growing into a fine young man, but there are many things you still do not know. Perhaps when you have children of your own, you will understand the fierce determination that comes forth when you must protect them.”

That was more or less his answer every time I asked, and it never satisfied me.

We lay on our stomachs in modified dentist chairs, side by side, our heads locked into place so my mom could perform the extremely delicate task of repairing our extended nervous systems without worrying about us jerking around. We’d been like this for days. Before that, we’d been unconscious for weeks while she worked to repair our basic neurological functions. During that time, Ruthven and Charon took turns making her take breaks to eat and sleep, or she probably would’ve have
gone on nonstop until we were conscious again. But eventually, she got us awake and talking again. Now she was working on getting the rest of our bodies reconnected.

“You made such a mess in here,” she grunted as she worked on me. Like she was complaining about my room.

“Sorry,” I said.

“Your father will be moving soon. His nerves were only severed. But you? You had to melt yours! I will have to rethread the entire thing. Now I must go and get more material.”

She stood up and left the room, muttering to herself.

“That is her way of showing you she cares,” said my father.

“Yeah, I know,” I said. Then after a moment, I said, “I really am sorry. For making VI. For running away from home. For running away from my mistakes. For all of it.”

“There are many things from my youth that I regret as well. I did…terrible things.” He was quiet for a second. “We all have regrets. This is why we must forgive each other. Why we must try to all be kind to one another. Because we are all guilty.”

“I wish I could go back and do it right this time.”

“I have never seen much use in wishing for impossible things,” he said. “Instead, I prefer to wish for things that could happen. Like my son graduating from the University of Geneva.”

“Of course I will, Dad.”

“You’d better.”

CLAIRE WAS NOT thrilled with my decision.

“Bloody
Switzerland
?!” she said.

“Uh, can we not talk about this while we’re twenty feet in the air?” I asked as I slid carefully along the catwalk, threading new ropes through the pulleys for the fly system. By the time my
mom had gotten me back on my feet, most of the fire damage had been repaired. But there was still a lot of work before The Show would be ready to reopen.

“I thought we were going back to LA,” she said.

“We were,” I said. “But…I’m sorry. After everything I’ve put my parents through, this is something I have to do.”

“But I thought you hated the Frankensteins. They messed up your family. They were evil creators.”

“I was an evil creator, too.”

She stared at me for a moment, her face hard. Then suddenly she looked away.

“Look,” she said quietly. “What I said back when we were on the road, about you being like Victor…I was lashing out. It was such an oversimplification. And you didn’t deserve it. It’s really not the same thing at all.”

“Isn’t it?” I asked. “I had a responsibility to VI and I failed her just like Victor failed my father. And just like with Victor, people died because of my failure.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“Maybe I am. And maybe if I learn how to forgive the Frankensteins, I can figure out how to forgive myself.”

She looked back at me then and smiled sadly. “Yeah, all right. That makes sense. I can respect that.”

“Thanks. I was hoping that if anyone could understand, it would be you.”

“But…I…I’m not going to go with you.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

Anger flashed back into her eyes. “So you don’t want me there?”

“Right. I don’t.”

Her mouth opened and her eyes did that crazy thing.

“Because you’d be miserable,” I said. “It’s so obvious you belong in LA, at The Studio. I’ve never seen you so happy, so…unified. I don’t know if it’s the place, the people, the work, or some combination of all that, but…whatever it is, that’s where you need to be right now.”

She sighed and kicked her feet, making the catwalk sway a little.

“It just sucks that we won’t be together.”

“I know. But we need to do these things for ourselves. I think if we didn’t, we’d regret it. And maybe we’d even start resenting the other person for stopping us.”

“What if you fall for some boobalicious Swiss maid or something?”

“What if you fall for some studly famous actor guy?”

“Don’t be daft, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Same here. We have to trust each other. Otherwise, what are we doing, anyway?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“And besides, if we start missing each other too much, there’s always Air Dragon.”

“Air Dragon might be good enough for broke college students. But Kemp pays me enough that I’ll be taking a proper, climate-controlled airplane, thank you very much.”

I grinned. “LA’s already made you soft, huh?”

“An airplane got me out here in time to drag your heavy, suicidal arse out from under a bloody light grid, didn’t it?” Then she smirked. “Besides, LA soft or not, I can still kick the shite out of you.”

“Still? When have you
ever
?”

“Right, it’s on!”

We started wrestling up there, the catwalk swinging precariously.
The wrestling turned into kissing. And the kissing led to other things.

Somehow we managed not to fall. It was a really sturdy catwalk.