"Fire when you're ready. Only once."
Nemo's arm muscles tensed as he squeezed the trigger and the shot rang out through the apartment. Stuffing came out of the hole left behind.
"Aim down at the floor." Rav walked over to the sofa and examined the bullet hole directly in the center of the cushion. "Nice shot. I might have a natural marksman on my hands."
"Did I do good?"
"You did extremely well. Ready to try again?" Rav asked.
"I guess."
"Whenever you're ready."
Again, Nemo squeezed the trigger.
This time, Rav looked for the second hole that hadn't appeared on the walls or the sofa. "Where did it go?" He ran his hand over the sofa, but found nothing. "Hold on . . . no way. Impossible."
"What?"
Rav dug his fingers into the bullet hole then found what he was looking for. In complete shock, he pulled his hand out to reveal the contents to his son. Two bullets. "Your second shot went through the same hole as your first. Nemo . . . do it again. Let me reload that for you and-"
"No. I got it." Nemo seamlessly picked the ammo up from the box then reloaded it as if he had been doing so for years.
Rav's blue eyes grew wide as two shots were fired, each one entering the same single hole.
"There. Can I stop now? I wanna watch cartoons."
"Nemo . . . how did you do that? Have you fired a gun before?"
Nemo set the pistol down on the table and removed his red sweatshirt. "Can I take a bath?"
"After we talk. Sit down and answer my questions. Have you shot a gun before? It's all right. You can tell me."
"Yes."
"When?" Rav asked, studying his son's every movement for clues. "When did you shoot a gun?"
Nemo's liveliness vanished. He sat at the table and nervously raked his fingers through his hair the same way Rav always did. "A few months ago."
"Where? Why?"
"I was bad. I did a bad thing, Daddy."
"Please tell me. Don't be scared."
"Krisharn's bedroom." Nemo traced the grout between the tiles on the floor with his toes. "My guard came into my cage one night. He . . . he tried to . . ."
Rav focused on his son's eyes. "Tell me."
"He took his pants off and kissed me, but I found a gun on his belt and . . . Daddy, I'm a bad boy. I . . ."
"You killed the guard, didn't you?"
Nemo bowed his head and started to cry. "Yes!"
So that was the underlying cause of the emptiness in those pale green eyes. "Nemo, you did the right thing." Rav picked up the derringer and placed it on the table in front of the boy. "You listen to me and you listen well. If anyone ever touches you again, you have my permission to use this to kill them. Your life is worth saving, worth fighting for, worth killing for. Do you hear me, Nemo? You will kill them without hesitation. You put a bullet between their eyes. No government would dare put a child behind bars, especially not for self defense. Nemo, never let anyone hurt you again. No one. Tell me you will protect yourself. Say it!"
Nemo picked up his pistol and slid it into his back pocket. "I will kill them. Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"I don't like killing people."
"I know. Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Now, let's get you into a nice warm bath."
Nemo jumped up and started hastily undressing. "With bubbles?"
Rav held up a bottle of strawberry scented bubble bath from his bag. "With bubbles!"
Chapter 2
Rav adjusted his striped tie that brought out the blue in his eyes then buttoned his black suit. It was too big in the shoulders and still covered in a fine layer of dust from the thrift shop he found found it at for less than the price of a bottle of soda. His shoes were no better. Unable to afford dress shoes, he bought a can of black spray paint and coated his sneakers with it. They looked convincing enough . . . from about a mile away in the dark. Once he stepped into the empty lobby of the Employment Center, Rav stopped in the bathroom near the door to take one last look at his appearance. He had not gone to bed after bathing Nemo and making sure he was asleep. And it showed. Exhaustion hung over him, clinging in dark circles under his eyes and a five o'clock shadow at barely nine in the morning. Tiny red patches of stubble spotted his chin from where he forgot to shave.
This was not going to go well, but he could not give up. The tiny boy he left on that bare mattress with his plushy spaceship and covered only in a hoodie needed him to do this. One way or another, Rav had to find employment. If he failed . . . no. He couldn't think like that. There was no room for failure. Not now.
Rav splashed cold water on his face then composed himself enough to walk back out into the lobby and up to the glass reception desk where a woman in a navy blue suit was typing loudly on her keyboard. He stood there, waiting and watching the electricity snapping inside the decorative tubes along the ceiling, mimicking a lightning storm over his head. A man in jeans and a polo shirt exited the back room and stopped next to Rav where he was handed a folder filed with applications.
"Thank you. Just fill those out and we will find a job that is perfect for your abilities, sir." The woman tucked her curly black hair behind her ears and raised an eyebrow as she turned her attention to Rav. "Can I help you?"
This was it. Time to make a good first impression. Rav had never had to do a job interview before, but he had watched television shows where people did. Taking all of his knowledge from sitcoms, he composed himself as best as he could. His nervousness rose to a peak when he cleared his throat and gave his little rehearsed speech. "Hello. I am Rav Tillman. I just moved here, and I am looking for a job. I believe that I can-"
"Are you a citizen?"
"No, but-"
"We don't have any openings."
Rav's mouth was still open from being interrupted and he gave a short gasp. "But you just gave that guy a bunch of applications. He didn't look like a Darkshot citizen."
"He has work experience."
"I have experience. I worked as a head computer engineer for CyrinoTech for nearly ten years. I have a mark of logic." He rolled up the sleeve of his suit to show her the tattoo of three interlocking gears. "I can also pilot spacecraft and-"
"We don't have any positions open. Goodbye."
"It doesn't have to be in technology. I'll take anything you have. I'll scrub the streets or work in construction. I can do physical labor as well. Anything."
The receptionist leaned forward, her brown eyes shooting daggers at him. "Perhaps I need to rephrase what I said so someone of your mental capacity will be able to understand it. We don't have any positions available . . . for you. You're not a citizen of Darkshot. If you want a job that badly, then I suggest you go back to Odyssia or wherever you got that mark of logic and get a job there. Or the Elysian military is always looking for infantrymen. Your corpse will fill a grave just as well as the next soldier."
"No, I need something here. I just rented an apartment, but I don't have the money for the citizenship application."
"Too bad." She motioned to the waiting room that had started to fill up. "Next."
Rav grabbed onto the edge of the desk. "No, wait. Please. I have a six-year-old son at home who is running out of food. He can't even get clothes or pay for admittance into elementary school. Please. Do this for him, not me. Don't let a young boy starve to death. I'll work for less than minimum wage. I'll take ten Dayta Notes per hour. Seven. Five. Please! Anything. I'll work nights. I'll work all week without sleep. I have to take care of my son!"
"Jobs are for citizens."
"So you have to be a citizen to get a job, but you have to have money to become a citizen?"
"That is correct."
Rav searched for anything he could use to his advantage. "What if I told you that Euro Brightman worked with me and he knew how hard of a worker I am?"
"The former vice president who shot and killed President Azure in cold blood? No way in hell. Get out!"
"But-"
Rav clenched his fists. There was no way he would let Nemo go through the same kind of abuse that Lucas went through at the hands of the corrupted clergy. Dejected and hopeless, he stepped away from the desk then took off running into the bathroom. He dove into the first stall and fell to his knees as he vomited. Tears streamed down his face as he punched the walls in frustration.
He was willing to do anything for money, but no one was willing to pay him. He would have taken a pen from the desk in the main room and carved out one of his kidneys to sell it if he could get even a month's rent for it. If there was a way to turn himself over to Warlord Tirlmayn for a reward and have the money sent back to Nemo, he would have done it. None of this was for him. It was all for Nemo.
Now he was on the verge of losing his son after fighting and searching for so long. He could steal food if he needed to do so, but then he would risk being arrested and put in jail while Nemo was taken away to be abused in some church in a different galaxy. There were plenty of ways to get money if he was willing to break the law for it. However, losing Nemo defeated the purpose there.
A quiet vibration sounded in the empty bathroom. Rav stopped pounding his fists into the floor, his knuckles coming back bruised and busted. He pulled his communicator from his pocket to look at the screen. No number or name. Who would be calling him on this new number? Pushing aside his panic, Rav pressed the screen with the tip of his trembling finger. "H-hello?"
A soft female voice spoke gently to him. "Ravy boy? You sound a bit flustered."
There was only one person who ever called him Ravy boy. His panic returned for a much different reason. "Mother?"
"Oh, Ravy boy, why are you having another hallucination?"
"Hallucination? Mother, you're dead . . ."
"Yes. I am, but not in your mind. Don't worry. I'm only here to help. Listen to me and do as I say. Sit down and hold your head in your hands."
Rav obeyed the mystery woman's orders. "Okay, okay. I'm siting down. How are you speaking to me? You're not real. This is just like when I was a child."
"Yes, Ravy boy. Now focus on taking deep breaths. Over and over."
"Mother?" Rav asked.
"Yes?"
"This isn't actually happening, is it? This conversation is . . ."
"Only in your mind. In your special Olonictic mind, I have always been here when you felt so much distress that your human mind shut down. This is why your adoptive father beat you, even before that entire ordeal with that Vance boy."
"And you died before I was born."
"Two years before that." She gave a small chuckle. "The actual woman who carried you in her body was my sister. She died in childbirth. We always looked similar, so you clung to me as your mother figure."
"The picture in the locket . . ."
"Was me."
Rav growled in his frustration. "This doesn't make any sense. You're dead, but you're not real!"
"I am not actually that woman you always called your mother. I am not anything other than a defensive mechanism in your computer brain that switches on during times of extreme duress. This is simply the form your young mind first assigned to me during your hallucinations."
"I've had hallucinations all my life . . ."
"Yes, you have. But it is for the best. Too much mental turmoil can cause your computer hardware to overheat."
Rav's heart rate slowed and he stopped trembling. "I've never put the pieces together. In essence, you are only a program."
"Indeed. Don't you smell the fragrance in here?"
Rav sniffed the air. "Green apples."
"Apples are a trigger for your hallucinations because you were exposed to them every time your adoptive father wanted you to have a hallucination. You were his test subject, after all."
"Hold on. My father made me have those hallucinations then he punished me when I did? What the hell? Who does that to a child? And what is this supposed to accomplish?"
"You're not punching things or crying anymore." The woman stated simply.
"You . . . you're right. Mother . . . I . . . But my problem remains. What do I do about Nemo? I can't watch him starve to death."
"Then don't. Computers can be turned off. You'll figure it out. Time to wake up, Ravy boy."
Rav gasped when the green apple fragrance faded away, leaving him as a confused emotional wreck. He looked around in the bathroom stall, feeling as if he had just regained consciousness. He went to end the call from his imaginary mother, but his communicator wasn't in his hand. It was still secure in his pocket. When he took it out, there was no evidence of any recent calls. It never happened. It was all in his head. Whatever kind of program that was, it certainly helped his situation. While Rav was just as hopeless and unemployed as he was ten minutes before, he had one ray of hope . . . if Nemo would agree to it.
* * *
As soon as Rav unlocked the door to his apartment, he knew something was all kinds of wrong. The smell of spray paint wafted out into the hallway. "Please don't let there be paint on the walls. Please don't let there be . . . oh, for the love of space. Nemo Dean Tillman! What have you done?"
Black spray paint was smeared across all four walls of the living room and the kitchen. Blue toothpaste had been painted over the cabinets and ketchup was splattered from floor to ceiling. The three combined together into a dripping mess that trailed down the walls and pooled on the tiles.
Nemo stepped out of the bathroom, still wiping ketchup from his arms. "Daddy, you're home! Do you like my art? I made it for you."
Rav stormed up to his son. "What did you do? The landlord is coming up here for inspection in less than an hour. Get this crap off the walls before I shove a probe into your ear and turn you off for good!"
He pouted. "Daddy, don't turn me off. You don't like my art?"
"Art? This is trash. It's a mess. Go get a towel so we can clean this up."
"No! It's my art."
In a flash of anger, Rav spun around and pushed the boy backwards against the wall. Then for the first time in either of their lives, Rav slapped Nemo across his face, knocking him to the floor.
"No . . . no." Rav knelt down to take the crying boy in his arms. "Nemo, no. I'm so sorry."
Nemo screamed at the top of his lungs, his eyes wide with fright. Like a wounded animal, the young boy scurried away into the hall closet and slammed the door shut.
Rav held up his hand. What had he done? Hitting a six-year-old child across the face hard enough to send him to the floor was unacceptable. And that was on top of promising Nemo that he would never lay a hand on him. Rav stood and went to the closet where he forced it open.
"I'm sorry. I'll be good. I'll be good, Daddy!"
He pried Nemo's arms away from his face and held him still so he could examine the boy's injuries. What Rav saw almost broke him. Nemo's right eye was swollen nearly shut and a dark bruise began to form on his cheek. His pale skin always showed marks easily. For a man who was adamantly against all forms of corporal punishment, Rav had gone far over the edge. He had done the thing that he opposed the most when it came to raising children. He had left marks on his son.
"Don't hit me. I'm sorry!"
Rav let Nemo's arms go. "I'm not going to hit you. Come on out of here so I can hold you. I'm so sorry. I lost my temper because I have had an extremely stressful day."
Nemo flinched when his father's hand touched his arm. Tears spilled down his face and fell to his paint-covered jeans. "Please . . . Daddy . . . don't. It hurts."
"Stop flinching. I won't hurt you again. It was an accident."
Someone pounded on the front door and a man's gravelly voice called from the other side. "Mr. Tillman, it's your landlord
. I've come for the initial inspection."
Well, that was it. It was over. There was no way anyone in their right mind would let them stay there after seeing the horrendous mess. Rav closed Nemo back up in the closet then went to the door without even trying to clean or cover up the spray paint, toothpaste, and ketchup monstrosity that spanned the entire apartment. Nothing would cover that up. He opened the door to see the short balding man in a yellow tuxedo.
The landlord covered his nose with his sleeve as he pushed past Rav into the living room. "What is that horrid smell? What in space is all this on the walls?"
"I apologize for the mess. I had to leave my son alone, just for a couple of hours, while I went to the Employment Center. He was asleep, so I thought it would fine. I wasn't abandoning him or anything. I know six-year-old kids shouldn't be left alone, but I had to find a job. I will punish him for this. I can assure you this will never happen again. Please don't kick us out. I will scrub the walls and-"
"Let me speak to the boy responsible for this. Bring him out here."
But then the landlord would see Nemo's black eye. There would be questions that Rav shouldn't answer. "He's asleep."
"In the hall closet? I hear him crying in there. Come on out, boy. I will speak with you about your art."
The closet door creaked open and the blond boy peeked out. "My . . . my art?"
"Yes, your art all over the walls. It's beautiful."
Rav froze. Art? Beautiful?
Nemo timidly shuffled up to the landlord and bowed his head. "I did it. I was bad."
"No, not at all. What happened to your face? It looks like someone punched you. Mr. Tillman, did you hit your son? This kind of abuse is against the law. I have to report this to the police."
Rav's eyes focused on the man's communicator. "No, don't. They won't find anything wrong. I didn't hit him. I would never hurt my son. He . . . he fell. Yes, he fell off of a chair while painting. Isn't that right, buddy?"
"Yep." Nemo looked up with a forced smile shining through his sadness. "I'm clumsy. I reached too high and slipped." He ran to Rav's side and hugged him tightly. "I love my daddy more than anything. He never hurts me."
The Genesis Sequence Books 6-10 Page 2