“You were taken to their nest?” she asked.
“Hey! We aren’t changing the subject. Stop that gap from shrinking, or I tell everyone everything. Now or never.”
Dr. Plaskington pressed a button on her tablet. The sphere stopped shrinking but did not disappear. “Let’s hear about their nest,” she said warily.
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Not much to tell. It’s a giant network of mammoth caves bigger than any structure anywhere else on the planet. There’s an entire underground city, luxury accommodations—oh, and we saw the Old Ones’ father down there. He’s awake. That’s why they’re all freaking out,” I said, indicating Warner, Hypatia, my dad, and Gus. “Actually, now that I think about it, there really is a lot to tell.”
Dr. Plaskington’s mouth dropped open. “You didn’t see him?”
I nodded. “We did. Hypatia and I had a chat with him. Nice kid. A bit ill-tempered.”
Dr. Plaskington pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just what we need, another potential apocalypse. You called him a kid?”
“Because he looked like one. But they can look like anything, right?” I said.
Dr. Plaskington nodded. “Yes, but they tend to appear to be an age that corresponds to their maturation.”
“I threw a magnetic singularity at him right before we left. It looked like the whole place was caving in, so maybe he’s gone back to being dead again.”
She blinked once, thinking. “I doubt that. You might have hurt him, but it would take a lot more than a cave-in to kill him. Still, hurting him like that could slow him down. If what you say is true, you might have bought us a few extra years before we have serious problems.”
“You’re right. We have much more serious problems than killing a single Old One who isn’t even on their side. Let Darleeen go, I’ll forget about Fluorine, and we can worry about extinction-level events instead.”
She paused and drew a deep breath. “So, if I allow . . . that to live, will you guarantee it will leave town without causing trouble?”
“No,” I said.
“No? I thought you wanted—”
I shook my head. “I want you to accept her as a student here. He saw her, too. She won’t be safe anywhere else.”
Dr. Plaskington’s eyes bulged to the point where I thought they might leave her head. “Accept her as a student? Have you gone mad? The parents will revolt. They’ll withdraw their children. They’ll . . . they’ll sue me.”
I rolled my eyes. “For what? Accepting a nondangerous student who is clearly smart enough to enhance their children’s education and teach us things about the Old Ones we couldn’t learn in a hundred years otherwise? Sounds like a good deal for everyone concerned.”
The Principal’s face brightened suddenly. She had an idea. “She’ll die here! The Old Ones can’t be detached from their collective for long, and the gap around the School—”
“That’s only true for the ones who haven’t already left the hive mind. She’s been detached for a while already, and she’s doing fine,” I said.
Dr. Plaskington pondered this. “She’s been exintegrated? I could tell, actually. It’s the smell—she doesn’t have that odor . . .”
“See? You can smell that she’s not as bad as the rest of them,” I said.
“That won’t help. I’m going to catch all kinds of flak for this. Do you have any idea . . . The paperwork alone . . . Ugh!” For a moment I was sure she was going to change her mind, but instead she said, “She can stay, so long as you accept any responsibility for her actions while she’s here. She should also be aware that we now have the ability to produce a confinement sphere like that anywhere on campus at a moment’s notice. If she puts one tentacle out of line, she’s right back in an even smaller hole. And if it turns out she’s up to something nefarious, I’ll have no choice but to assume you’re in on it, too.”
I nodded in agreement, hoping Darleeen didn’t have any nefariousness in her that could get me in hot water later on.
“Do . . . do you happen to have an idea of what her finances look like?” Dr. Plaskington asked.
I shook my head. “She had a part-time job at a Dairy Shed until earlier today.”
Judging by Dr. Plaskington’s expression, this was the worst news of all.
20
ONLY JOKING
A MESSAGE TO PARENTS
from Dr. Patricia Plaskington:
Greetings to all from the Plaskington International Laboratory School of Scientific Research and Technological Advancement! It’s been a while since I’ve contacted everyone, and I thought it long past time to highlight some wonderful positive changes we’ve recently implemented and to bring everyone up to speed on our ongoing efforts to improve what is almost universally considered to be the world’s finest, most advanced, and most underpriced educational institution.
First and foremost, the kidnapping incident you might have heard about recently has been completely resolved, and everyone is back at school safe and sound. I’d like to thank the School’s crack security team for taking the lead and doing all they could to bring the situation to a quick and safe outcome!
Some of you have contacted us about a variety of absolutely baseless rumors regarding the quality and content of food served in the School’s cafeteria facilities. Let me assure you all, your students’ food is now, and has always been, composed of 100 percent real food products. Not that it was necessary, but we recently welcomed a team of investigators from the Parahuman Food Safety Board, who were able to inspect our kitchen facilities and determined everything to be completely in order. In fact, I was so impressed by their rigorous inspection that I’ve offered each of the inspectors a highly lucrative adjunct instructor position to begin at some point in the next year.
On an unrelated note, parents will see a new “regulatory compensation surcharge” on future tuition bills. This trivial fee allows the School to continue providing the top-notch educational experience you’ve come to expect.
Finally, we’ve accepted a new student into the School. We are excited to welcome Darleeen Smidgen, an exintegrated Old One who loves ice cream, music, and tennis. I have personally confirmed she is completely harmless in every way. We look forward to learning from and with Darleeen.
Thank you,
Dr. Patricia Plaskington
Proprietor, Principal, Pal
PILSSRTA
That worked about as well as you’d expect. Not only was Darleeen shocked to learn that she enjoyed tennis, but pretty much all the parents freaked out. About a dozen students were pulled out of school by the end of the week, and a number of parents demanded Darleeen be expelled, imprisoned, or killed immediately. In the end, it was actually goofy Dr. Hoffman who came up with a way the issue could best be put to bed. She proposed a lecture series open to students and parents where Darleeen would tell her story, including what she remembered about being exintegrated, how she saved us from the Old Ones, and why she had to remain hidden.
Naturally, Darleeen hated doing these and only reluctantly agreed when threatened with extra coursework by Dr. Plaskington. Her least favorite part was the Q&A sessions at the end. The questions were always carefully phrased to sound polite and curious, but what they really wanted to know was: “Will you be living with my kid?” “Are you absolutely certain you won’t turn evil and decide to murder people?” and the most popular, “What are the School’s rules on mind control?”
To these, Darleeen answered that she had been given her own private residence with electricity and indoor plumbing, that in her opinion she was less likely to turn into a murderous psychopath than most of their kids, and that she would only use her abilities to maintain her appearance. Besides, the School had ways of detecting mind control, so she couldn’t get away with it even if she tried.
As frightened as most people were about the Old Ones, they were also curious abo
ut them. Three standing-room-only lectures later, the controversy had died down significantly. It also helps that people can get used to anything if you give them enough time. In fact, all but a couple of the students who had been pulled out came back in the month after Darleeen’s arrival.
After that, things pretty much settled back to normal. Well, things got about as normal as they can get at the School. Hypatia and I made every attempt we could to hang out with Darleeen and include her in various activities and social events, but she was something of a loner and almost always declined, unless ice cream was involved or if we were seeing a movie. Darleeen loved movies, no matter what they were about. She was also giving Warner a run for the title of top student, which was a source of joy for me.
A couple weeks later, my dad was finally due to be released from the hospital. I’d been having dinner with Darleeen and worrying about what he would do after leaving the School Town when it hit me.
A freaking water balloon the size of a watermelon dropped out of the sky and landed on top of my head like a squishy rubber meteor. A millisecond later I was soaked from head to toe, filled with rage, and brandishing a terrifying spiked agar club at my friendly local impromptu hydration specialists.
“EASY!” Dirac said, backing away with one hand raised while pushing Warner forward to accept any assaults I might launch in their direction.
“It was a joke, Nikola!” Warner was saying, his own hands up in a calming gesture that made me want to break his fingers. “It’s one of our reversible water balloons! Why don’t you put the club away, and I can undo it?”
I wasn’t in the mood to let them off the hook just yet, but I did make the spikes on my club disappear in a show of good faith.
“That’s a start,” Warner said, carefully removing his tablet and booting up an app that caused about two gallons of water to be drawn away from my body and clothes and back into balloon form.
Finally mollified, I turned my water-balloon-revenge club back into a bracelet around my wrist once again. “Maybe warn a girl next time? Surprise attacks kind of lose their charm when you’ve been through a few actual surprise attacks.”
“Sorry,” Warner said as he and Dirac took seats at our table.
For the record, neither of them looked a bit sorry.
I noted that while Warner sat in his usual seat at our unofficial Big Gathering Table (center spot on whichever side put his back to the sun), Dirac sat down at the far corner, away from everyone. I figured he was going to work on his art until I noticed him throwing a furtive sidelong glance in Darleeen’s direction. He was sitting as far from her as he could. Was he scared of her? I wondered if he even knew he was doing it.
“How’s your dad? Still recovering?” Warner asked as he accepted a smoothie from the waiter-bot.
“He’s good. I’m going to see him after this. Dr. Foster said that because he was with them as long as he was, there might be some permanent effects, but Dad says that’s balderdash. Is Majorana doing okay?” I asked Dirac.
He only nodded, looking a bit surly. Majorana had broken something like 90 percent of the bones in her body when she’d been launched across the mall parking lot and through a spruce tree at about three hundred miles an hour, so naturally she was completely recovered less than a week later. I hadn’t had a chance to speak with her, but from what I had heard, she was, if anything, more graceful and physically gifted than she had been to begin with. Meanwhile I still trip on my own socks from time to time.
I sipped my coffee and discovered it was more than hot. The ordering system had given me the parahuman version of coffee, complete with lots of ground red pepper and a touch of vinegar. It wasn’t bad, actually.
“Did you hear they’re letting us use the cloud generator in art class next week?” I asked Dirac. “Do you think the people of Iowa will be more frightened by a cloud that looks exactly like a jack-o’-lantern or a perfect square?”
Dirac only grunted in response. In fact, he kind of angled his head away from the rest of us when he did it.
Ever since we’d gotten back, Dirac had almost been like a ghost around me. He’d never been a chatterbox, but it had gotten to the point where it seemed like he was mad about something. I was about to bring it up when Warner drummed his fingers on the table in a way that meant “Best not to ask him about it. He’s been acting like that for a while, and every time I bring it up, he just gets more sullen. He’s just a bit of a drama queen sometimes.”
That might sound like a lot of information to relay by tapping the table, but Warner, Hypatia, and I had made a game out of communicating via Morse code when in mixed company, a trick that had come in handy once or twice.
I was formulating a Morse code response when Warner grabbed his smoothie and stood up suddenly. “Now, if you all will excuse me, I need to go beat Nikola’s high score on Polybius.”
“You will never beat my high score,” I said. “It is literally impossible for the likes of you.”
“Hah!” Warner said scornfully as he marched determinedly into the building and straight for the arcade cabinets.
I was right, by the way. The maximum score possible for a perfect play-through of the game is 905,647 points. When nobody was looking, I’d modified the game’s ROM card to list me as the high-score owner with 905,650 points. I wondered when he’d figure it out.
Darleeen was poring wide-eyed over a list of elective classes on her tablet, amazed at the options. Every few seconds she had a new question about the offerings, like:
“Is accelerator golf played in a cloud chamber?”
“This class description says I’ll need to check out a pet from the library for emotional bonding experiments. Do they have dogs?”
“Do we have to supply our own knives for Competitive Knife Throwing?”
“They let you have knives?” a new voice said from behind me.
I didn’t have to turn around. The weary irritation and faint nervousness on Darleeen’s face told me Ultraviolet VanHorne was standing just over my shoulder. She and Darleeen hadn’t had an outright argument yet, but it was coming. Every time Darleeen and Ultraviolet ran into each other, Ultra went to great lengths to make it clear to everyone within earshot just how foolish she thought it was that the School allowed “those things” free run of the place.
I knew that she was wrong about Darleeen, but what really bothered me about it was that I had the distinct impression that Ultraviolet knew she was wrong, too. It was like she was pretending to believe Darleeen was a threat because it gave her a plausible reason to be a complete jerk without looking too bad to others. It also bothered me that nobody ever really called her out on it.
In answer to the knife question, Darleeen pulled a butter knife from where it had been wrapped in a paper napkin and held it up.
“Yep,” was all she said.
“Nice. Did you have to take a class on not eating with your hands?” Ultraviolet said.
I couldn’t help myself. “Speaking of etiquette, are you supposed to use silverware when you eat deer turds, or is it more like a fried chicken situation?”
Ultraviolet made a face at me like she’d just, well, eaten a deer turd. “You shut up with that, trashy trollop. I don’t know what you did to make me say that, but you’re going to regret it sooner or later.”
I was going to say something else even cleverer, but Darleeen caught my eye and gave me the faintest indication that I should relax for the time being. Instead, I just said, “Okay.”
Ultraviolet didn’t respond; she just took the seat across from Dirac and nibbled at her banana split. Eventually, just when I thought she was done being a pain, she spoke quietly to Dirac, but not so quietly that we couldn’t hear what she was saying. “The thing I don’t get is how they invest all this money in defense, and then they let dangerous charity cases in on the honor system. It could be secretly cooperating with the Old Ones and prepa
ring to overthrow the School from the inside, you know?”
Darleeen spoke before I got the chance. “So let me get this straight. On the one hand, I’m a sophisticated infiltrator who can’t be trusted because I’m so crafty. But on the other hand, you doubt I can use a butter knife without help? Which is it, doll?”
“I was only joking,” Ultraviolet said haughtily. “Besides, I was talking to Dirac.”
Darleeen went on, her voice level. “Right. And I’m talking to you now. If you have to pretend what you said was a joke, then maybe you shouldn’t be saying it.”
Ultraviolet sighed as dramatically as possible and spoke directly to Dirac again. “It’s just that you never know when someone is working with them. You know?”
I couldn’t help but notice Dirac wasn’t looking anywhere near as outraged at what Ultraviolet had said as I was. Then he nodded. Dirac was agreeing with her.
“That’s an excellent point,” Darleeen said, her southern drawl becoming more noticeable. “Speaking of which, I’m really sorry about your uncle. It’s a real shame what happened to him. Did they ever say how a skiing accident can cause someone’s brain to melt?”
Both Ultraviolet’s and my mouths fell open. I’d mentioned Paul Merchar to Darleeen, but I hadn’t had any idea he was related to Ultraviolet.
“It was just an accident, and wow, you’re as classy as the other Old Ones, bringing up the accidental death of a stranger to one of his family members—”
“Oh, he wasn’t a stranger. I knew him, too,” Darleeen said casually. “At least my sisters did. The time before I got away from the Old Ones is pretty cloudy, but when Nikola mentioned his name the other day, it was like a light went on in my memory. I just knew I’d seen him around somewhere. So I got to looking him up and saw that he was also on the board of the Merchar/VanHorne family trust and that he’s your uncle. It almost seems like your dear, departed relative was an employee of my former family. Before he skied so badly his brain melted, of course.”
Ultraviolet stood up from the table and handed her unfinished banana split to a trash receptacle. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I have better things to do.”
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