Selfie: Device Kids Book One

by D. S. Murphy

  “Those assholes,” I said, trembling with anger. Dad tried to put an arm around me but I shrugged him off.

  “Three months,” I said. “They’ve been working on this for ten years, but if they’d have finished three months earlier, Mom would still be alive.”

  “It’s not their fault mom died,” Megan said. “It’s not like it’s a government conspiracy. She had cancer. Cancer kills people.”

  “Yeah, it used to,” I yelled. “But apparently it doesn’t have to anymore. All those months of chemo and medication, the puking, the fainting, the relapses… none of it helped. And now they have tiny robots that can just fix it. So what, I should be happy about it?”

  “At least other people can still be saved,” my dad said quietly, looking at my sister. Megan’s lower lip was trembling and her eyes were filling up with tears. At first I thought this was about mom, but then I saw the two of them exchange a look. There was something else, something secret. I stood up, flexing my wrists and looking back and forth between them.

  “Brianna, there’s something we have to tell you.”

  “No way,” I said. My whole body was tingling, like cockroaches were walking over my bare skin.

  “You can’t—you wouldn’t have kept that from me.”

  “We weren’t absolutely sure until recently. And so soon after mom’s death, we thought…”

  “What is it? Megan, what is it?”

  “Retin…retino…” she stuttered.

  “Retinoblastoma,” Dad finished for her.

  “Eye cancer,” Megan added, as a tear fell down her cheek.

  I felt hot and cold at the same time, and the sudden silence was deafening, like the air had been sucked out of the room. My legs felt shaky and I leaned against the couch to steady myself.

  “I can’t, I just…” I choked on my words. I’d forgotten how to talk and breathe at the same time. My own eyes were filling up now. But I didn’t want to be sad. I was so tired of being sad. I stormed into the garage and slammed the door. Last summer I’d developed a habit of staying up all night tinkering, so eventually Dad just bought me a cot so I could crash mid-project and get a few hours of sleep. It was the summer of the roses. Years ago, Dad brought home a pine tree in a pot, and planted it near the driveway. It grew so fast it was casting shade over Mom’s rose bushes. He didn’t want to cut it, even though it had grown in funny, with a curved spine. I thought I could resolve the conflict with a device that refracted the sun to cast more light on the roses.

  But then Mom got sick, and nobody talked about the front garden anymore. We spent so much time at the hospital we were rarely home, anyway. My half-finished project collected dust in the garage, and now it seemed to be mocking me. A reminder of all the things I never finished. That I couldn’t fix. All my tech wasn’t enough to save my mother. I rolled over to stare at the wall.

  Dad knocked on the door, asking to come in and talk. I yelled at him to go away. Then Megan tried, but I just couldn’t deal. Why were they so calm? That’s what I hated most about the last few weeks of my mother’s life—the calmness. The acceptance. Like she was just giving up. And now it seemed like Dad and Megan were going through it all again, but they’d kept me in the dark. Because they knew I’d freak out. That I couldn’t handle it. And now they were trying to comfort me, when Megan was the one with cancer. I hated my weakness, and I didn’t want to yell or argue, so I just shut them out. It was easier.

  After an hour, I checked my phone. Amy had messaged me a few times. I scrolled down and texted back. I had to tell someone or I was going to burst.

  Megan has cancer.

   No way. Oh my god, shit that sucks, are you OK?

  First my mom, now my little sis.

  Should I come over?

  No, we can talk in school tomorrow. I need to be alone.

  I knew I was being a brat, and I hated myself for shutting out my little sister. My little sister whose hair I braided this morning, my little sister who had Retinofuckingblastoma. But what did they expect, that I could just sit down and discuss it rationally? The universe was destroying my family, one by one, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  I gathered up the unfinished project, clearing my workbench, and dumped it into the trash, letting the mirrors crack and fracture. It was so cathartic I picked it up and smashed it down again, ignoring the bite of glass against my arms. Then I curled into the cot and cried myself to sleep.

  3

  I fell asleep in my clothes, and the next morning I still felt exhausted. I took a shower and washed the dried tears off my cheeks. I took a long look at myself in the mirror. I had blonde hair, like my mom, but I started cutting it myself after she died—whenever it got too long I’d hack off my bangs. Megan helped me trim the sides and back. Today I pulled it up into a high ponytail, which is how I wore it when I needed to focus or get my hands dirty. Then I took a deep breath and headed downstairs.

  Dad and Megan were eating breakfast together. They’d been doing that for weeks, I realized now. Without me. Dad cleared his throat but I held up one finger and went straight to the coffee machine. This time I did it the old-fashioned way, sniffing in the rich smell of the coffee beans. Steaming mug in hand, I sat down at the table.

  “It’s not the same type of cancer mom had, right?” I asked.

  “Right,” my dad said.

  “So it’s not hereditary?”

  “It doesn’t seem so, but it’s hard to say these things for sure.”

  “Treatment options?”

  “Radiation therapy and chemotherapy. If those fail, surgery.”

  “Worst case scenario?”

  “Blindness in at least one eye,” dad said.

  “But she’ll be okay?” I felt sick to my stomach. She had to be okay.

  “It’s rarely fatal,” my dad said, “but not without risks. The treatment alone can have a negative impact. She’ll probably have to miss a few months of school.”

  “And the therabots?”

  “I made some calls last night. Dr. Jenkins thinks she will qualify. I’ve already scheduled an appointment.”

  Dr. Jenkins was the specialist who’d been treating mom. I still harbored some anger and resentment for letting my mother die, but I knew he was good. Hope flared up in my chest, until I noticed the tension in my dad’s eyes.

  “But?” I asked, prepared for the worst.

  “Well, even with insurance, we’ll have to co-pay, and it isn’t cheap. It could cost $50,000 or more.”

  “But we have the money, right?”

  “I have some saved up in a college fund for the both of you. This has to be a family decision.”

  “Wait, are you kidding?” I asked, slamming down my mug and spilling coffee. “Megan might go blind and you’re asking me if I want to go to college or get her treated? Don’t be stupid. I don’t care about college.”

  “I just… I wish you didn’t have to choose. I wish I could provide for both. But with your mother gone—”

  “I can get a job. I can work. Seriously, use the money. Get the treatment. We’ll deal with the rest later.” Megan gave me a hug, and I wrapped my arms around my dad and kissed his cheek.

  “Whatever you need. Chores, meal prep, whatever. I’m in. Just make me a list. I’m late for school… but… sorry about last night.”

  As I cut through the garage to grab my skateboard, I noticed mom’s project was back on the counter where it had been. It looked like a tree of mirrors and broken glass. Dad must have fished it out of the trash. There was a sticky note on it that read, finish what you start.

  ***

  Thirty minutes later I was back in science class, but it felt like everything had changed. Mr. Leister told us to break into groups and start brainstorming project ideas. For the first ten minutes we just sat there looking at each other. David was scribbling in his notebook, Amy was playing on her phone, and I was sitting on my hands trying not to stare at Greg. Brad leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed, chewing on
a toothpick.

  “So,” Greg said finally, “any ideas?”

  “I’ve got a few,” David said.

  “Of course you do,” Brad said. Then he fake-coughed in his hand, “Loser.”

  “Knock it off!” Amy said. “If you’re not contributing, then shut the hell up. I’m not going to let you clowns screw up my GPA.”

  Brad looked like he was going to say something else, but thought better of it. Way to go Amy.

  “So I was thinking we need something that will play to our combined strengths,” David said. “Amy’s good at art and design, Brad is good at hacking programs and coding, Brianna’s good at creative problem solving and workarounds. I’m pretty good at math and electrical engineering.”

  I raised my eyebrows at Amy. David may be quiet, but he paid attention. And starting out with a round of compliments was smart. “And Greg—”

  “I’m good at basketball,” Greg said with a grin. But there was something else in his eyes. Sadness. What did he have to be sad about?

  “Greg’s good with people. I think he should be our presenter,” David said.

  Amy and I nodded. Brad brought his chair back to the ground.

  “Fine,” he said. “Whatever. But what are we building?”

  “I think some kind of useful bot would be easy for us. Something to help around the house, or free up human resources. Or maybe some new kind of charging device.”

  “Boring,” said Brad. “They are looking for something new. Something surprising.”

  “How about a rocket pack?” Greg said. “I mean they have those, but they’re really expensive.”

  “Too many regulations,” David said.

  “Do you remember that robotic cat?” Amy asked, “that hunted mice, then ate them and digested them for power? That was awesome.”

  “There are lots of ways we could make a renewable energy bot,” David said. “A lawn mower that eats the grass or rakes leaves and converts it to energy.”

  “We should make an invisibility suit,” Brad said.

  “Too expensive and hard to pull off,” I said. “The military have been trying for years.”

  “Yeah but they’re old,” Brad smirked.

  “It should be something that helps everybody,” Amy said. “Something everybody already wants but nobody can get.” What did I want? For my sister to outlive me. And to be as pretty as Melissa so Greg would find me attractive. That’s when I first had the idea, or at least the beginning of the idea, that would destroy the world.

  “What?” Amy said, looking at me. She knew me well enough to see I’d found something.

  “We should hack the therabots,” I said quietly. Greg frowned and looked confused. David shifted in his seat and then took his glasses off and started cleaning the lenses.

  “I don’t think that would count as an invention,” David said. “And besides, they were just announced yesterday. We can’t hack something we don’t have.”

  “Amy, if you could change anything about your appearance, what would it be?”

  “Poutier lips,” she said without hesitation. “And bigger eyes. And longer eyelashes.”

  “Brad?”

  “Muscles like a superhero. And perfect teeth.”

  “Greg?”

  “I’d like to be a foot taller,” he smiled, miming a slam-dunk.

  “David?”

  “The therabots are tiny—even if we could get our hands on some, we’d never be able to customize them,” David said, dodging the question.

  “We don’t have to customize them. They’re already built to remedy 270 different health issues. The government would have made them to be versatile. All we have to do is access and alter their programming.”

  “Wireless override,” Brad said. “We’d have to get their source code, but then we could put it into our own document and recode it.”

  “Wouldn’t that be, kind of illegal?” Greg asked.

  “It would be a super gray area,” David said, frowning. “I mean if you pay for treatment, I don’t think you’re just borrowing or renting the therabots. Aren’t they built for one-time use?”

  “Yeah but probably just so they can keep charging you for repeat treatments.”

  “So we’d have to reprogram them not to get flushed out. That alone would be a pretty useful hack. But the NHTC could already do that, if they wanted to. What do we bring to the table?”

  “You know how the government works,” I said. “I mean it’s amazing already, what they can do to cure disease, and extend lifespans and everything. But it’ll take another decade before they start using therabots to do anything more interesting.”

  “Red tape ties hands,” Amy chipped in, sounding like a fortune cookie.

  “Sometimes that’s a good thing,” David said. “Without processes and bureaucracy, people could get hurt. Plus, they were built to cure disease on a cellular level, not hacking DNA or editing the human genome.”

  “Human evolution,” Brad said, his eyes gleaming. “Without needing to wait for mutations across generations.”

  “Not just curing disease,” I nodded. “Biological enhancement.”

  “With enough therabots, couldn’t they keep you young and healthy, like, forever?” Amy asked.

  “Immortality,” Greg said with a dramatic pause. “I think that should qualify us for first place in a science fair.”

  We all laughed, but then David held his hands up. “It’s an awesome idea,” he said, “but the fact remains, we don’t have access to any therabots. The NHTC said they’re only giving them to terminal patients.”

  “Life-threatening,” I corrected. “And I’m pretty sure I know where to get some.”

  4

  “You want to use my pee for your science fair project?” Megan asked, with an air of skeptical incredulity she’d learned from TV.

  The approval process had gone quickly. Because of Megan’s age and our mother’s recent death from cancer, Dr. Jenkins had put “retinoblastoma with high risk of complication” on the online application, and she’d been approved two days later. Tomorrow was her first treatment, and I’d convinced Dad to let me take the afternoon off from school so I could go with her. That way I could learn how the therabots worked. Now I just needed my sister to agree to our plan.

  “You’re going to get a new treatment of therabots every week, and after they’ve done their job, they’ll be flushed from your system. All we want to do is recycle the nanobots so they don’t go to waste.”

  “What do you want them for?”

  “We want to understand how they work.”

  “Aren’t you meant to create your own thing for a science fair?”

  “We have an idea or two for some… modifications.”

  Megan pulled her eyes away from the cartoons on TV.

  “Are you allowed to do that?” she asked with a dangerous grin.

  “Not exactly. Just don’t tell Dad.”

  “I wouldn’t squeal,” she said, frowning and crossing her arms. “I’m not a kid anymore, Bree.” When she scowled, she looked so much like mom it took my breath away.

  “Of course not,” I said, ruffling her hair. She rolled her eyes at me and pushed my hand away.

  “So you’ll do it?” I asked.

  “Is this something I could get in trouble for?”

  “No way. I promise.”

  “Wouldn’t they have special numbers on them or something? Just in case somebody steals them and uses them for something they don’t want them to?”

  “With what,” I asked. “Super microscophic lasers? Besides, who else would steal something like that?”

  “I don’t know, people from other countries maybe. People who don’t have this tech yet. You heard the president say that they were years ahead on this stuff.”

  She had a point, but I kept my face neutral.

  “I’ll make sure that we get rid of any evidence,” I said. “And I won’t let anything get traced back to you.”

  Megan shrugged. “Oka
y,” she said, turning back towards the cartoons. “There’s just one more thing.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “I want your skateboard.”

  “Deal,” I said, with a grin of pride. “I’ll even teach you how to use it.”

  She beamed at me and then settled back down in her blanket to watch her show. I went into the hallway, grabbed my skateboard, and took it upstairs into Megan’s room. I stood there for a moment, soaking it all in. All of the little things that seemed to make up my sister even when she wasn’t there. Her toys, her drawings. I’d taken it for granted. I promised myself I’d never do that again.

  I cleared a space at the end of her bed and set the skateboard there so that she wouldn’t trip on it on her way in. I would have given it to her for free.

  ***

  “She’s in,” I told my group at school the next day. We’d spent several days brainstorming and dividing up responsibilities during class. David was learning all he could about DNA and genetic markers. Brad was researching nanotechnology. Greg was in charge of writing the sales copy and benefits, putting a marketing spin on it. And Amy and I had to come up with a user interface of some kind, so that normal people could program their nanobots. But it all depended on whether or not I’d actually be able to come through with the goods. Now that I had, there was an added gravitas to our work.

  “We can’t tell anybody about this,” David said before the end of class. “Not teachers or parents or friends. Nobody. It’s different if we can actually make something that works, with proof and stats. But until then, we’re flirting with some controversial stuff—not to mention safety concerns.”

  “How dangerous is this going to be?” Amy asked. She was tapping her feet, which I knew meant she was nervous.

  “We’re fucking around with human DNA,” Brad said. “Picture Jurassic Park, but with monstrous humanoids.”