Child of Lies

by Eric Kent Edstrom

  Mr. Justin took a slight inhalation as if preparing to respond, but he abruptly closed his mouth.

  “What is it?” Jacey demanded.

  Mr. Justin said nothing.

  “What Mr. Justin is not saying,” Belle said, “is that we have to let Senator Bentilius have Summer.”

  The butler nodded.

  Jacey ignored the comment and the nod. A thought nagged at the back of her mind. “Mr. Justin, you just said that the Progenitors want to keep the school and its technology a secret. That means they know it’s wrong.”

  “That’s one interpretation,” Belle said, though her voice made it clear she thought it ridiculous. She snatched the list from Jacey. “It seems more likely that these people want to keep it secret in order to keep the advantage to themselves. You can’t have everyone transferring to a Scion when they get old. If I had access to that type of power, I would keep it secret, share it only among my allies.”

  Jacey snorted at the idea of Belle having friends. But then, she supposed, allies weren’t exactly the same things as friends.

  “I hate to say it, but Belle’s right,” Humphrey said. “I’m guessing these people don’t really care if it’s wrong. It has more to do with power. It’s like our training here on campus. The more time that goes by, the more knowledge we have, right? The more training we had with Sensei, the better our fighting skills, even for those of us who weren’t particularly gifted in that art. Now imagine you had lived seventy or eighty years and during that time you had accumulated a vast hoard of knowledge and ability. In addition, you’d also amassed wealth and influence. By transferring to a Scion, you could hold onto all that. With a new young body, you’d give yourself an extra lifetime to build upon what you’ve already established. Yes, a smart person would want to hoard that ability and make it very difficult to share in it.”

  “What about right and wrong?” Jacey said plaintively. “The act of overwriting a Scion—a person—is wrong. They all have to know that.”

  Jacey had to believe her own Progenitor had known it was wrong. And how could Livy’s Progenitor produce a clone so full of love and wisdom without possessing those qualities, too?

  She sighed. The answers to those questions weren’t going to help Summer or anyone else.

  Mr. Justin clasped his hands and shook his head sadly. “I know it’s difficult for you. Believe me, I have not enjoyed watching all of you grow up, knowing that you will be overwritten by people who in most regards are your inferiors. But it is as inevitable as the rise and setting of the sun.”

  With that, he left the office.

  His comments irritated Jacey, not only because they were true, but also because he wasn’t willing to fight. Now she suspected he had a Scion of his own. It was the only thing that made sense.

  She scanned the list again. No one named Justin was on the list, but he had said that some Progenitors used pseudonyms. He must have done the same himself. Could it be that Dr. Carlhagen hadn’t even known that Mr. Justin had a Scion?

  Which Scion could it be? Offhand, Jacey couldn’t think of anyone who bore the slightest resemblance to Mr. Justin.

  Jacey stood, conscious of the time flying by. “I’m going to speak to Summer. She has a right to know what is happening. And a right to make a decision for herself about whether she will fight or flee.”

  Belle grabbed Jacey’s elbow to stop her. “She has no such right.”

  Jacey snatched her arm away and spun on Belle. “How can you be so cavalier about the life of one of your sisters?”

  “She’s not my sister. She’s not even in my Nine. But even if she were, I’d give her up. Any resistance that you or Summer make has consequences for all the other Scions you claim to care so much about. If Summer fights or runs away and it brings down a troop of gunmen on this island, don’t you think it’ll make it that much more difficult to save the rest of us?”

  Jacey opened her mouth, but no argument came out. She couldn’t find one.

  Belle gave Jacey one last long stare. “Think before you act for a change, Jacey.” She brushed past her and out of Dr. Carlhagen’s office.

  Humphrey collapsed into a side chair as if he’d been struggling to stay upright while Belle was in the room. “I hate to say it again, but she’s right.”

  8

  A Purely Logical Standpoint

  Belle pocketed the Progenitor and Scion list as she left the hacienda. Fortunately Jacey and Humphrey were so involved in themselves that they hadn’t noticed her walking off with it. She’d taken it on a whim, on instinct. Perhaps it would be useful once she was off the island. She didn’t know exactly how, but she’d rather have it than not.

  She threw nervous glances behind her as she hurried down the gravel path from the hacienda to the campus. It was clear from the conversation in Dr. Carlhagen’s office that Jacey wasn’t going to allow Senator Bentilius to overwrite Summer. She was far too emotionally attached to the other Scions to see reason. Belle knew there was nothing anyone could do to stop Progenitors from overwriting Scions. That meant her Progenitor would arrive on St. Vitus in a year—probably with a force of armed men—and Belle, too, would be overwritten.

  Fortunately, Belle thought she saw a way out, for herself at least.

  The first objective was to get back into the medical ward. Belle assumed Jacey would give the guardian AI fresh instructions to keep her out. That Jacey had become such a busy body was no surprise. She’d always been bossy with everyone, so full of herself. It made Belle want to hit something.

  But no. This was not the time to release her fury. For the moment, she needed to keep her thoughts clear. Jacey was predictable. She’d run directly to Summer and drag her to the medical ward to show her how the mind transfer technology worked.

  That presented an opportunity—if a somewhat risky one— for Belle to get back in.

  Belle got to the bottom of the path and scanned the quad. It lay empty. Apparently the students had been summoned to class. She cut left and darted up the front steps of the medical ward. Inside, Nurse Smith’s metal desk sat in front of the steel door that locked off the rest of the ward.

  Belle knew better than to argue with the AI again. Instead, she ducked under the desk. She sat cross-legged and fell into one of the deep-breathing exercises Sensei had taught her. She had never enjoyed them, but if there had ever been a time for her to meditate, this was it.

  Now all she had to do was wait for Jacey to do her part.

  ° ° °

  A long silence stretched in Dr. Carlhagen’s office as Jacey considered the dilemma facing them. Unused to wearing her hair down all the time, she found it made the back of her neck uncomfortably hot. She was tempted to pull it up, but refused out of sheer stubbornness.

  She had never wanted off the island more than she did at that moment. She vowed that someday she’d go somewhere it snowed all the time.

  Mr. Justin returned, clearing his throat. “Perhaps the best thing would be to make Summer’s last days more comfortable. You could excuse her from classes. Perhaps we could put together some of her favorite meals. I believe she is particularly fond of swimming at Isaac’s Beach.”

  “So you’re saying I shouldn’t even tell her,” Jacey said, realizing that it might be crueler for Summer to know the truth.

  She took a croissant from the tray but tossed it back. Her appetite was long gone, killed by her frustration and the uncomfortable warmth in the office.

  “Belle is right,” she said, staring at the doorway through which the pale girl had recently departed. “From a purely logical standpoint,” Jacey continued, “Belle is completely right. But I can’t be logical about this. Summer is in my Nine, and I am responsible for her.”

  Humphrey walked around to face her, put his hands on her shoulders, and looked into her eyes. She welcomed the warmth she found there. The support.

  He urged her into his arms. She went reluctantly at first and then sagged, letting her weight rest against him and pressing her cheek t
o his chest. He stroked her hair for a while, then leaned away from her until she looked up at him.

  Despite their closeness, a strange unease made them awkward together. Jacey knew that Humphrey loved her. She loved him too. She thought she did, anyway. But it was hard to think about such things when there were life-and-death issues to confront.

  “I don’t see how we can stop it,” he said.

  For a moment, she thought he was talking about their feelings for each other. But he went on, “Even if we could keep the senator from overwriting Summer, it’s going to be Belle next. And a year after that, four more.”

  Jacey stiffened and pulled away. “We can’t worry about that. We have to deal with the current issue, and the only answer is to get Summer away from campus and let the senator’s disease take its course.”

  Humphrey kissed her forehead. “I knew that would be your decision from the start.” He kissed her cheek. “I’d never try to talk you out of it. But I want you to be sure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Mr. Justin cleared his throat again. “I shall retire to the kitchen. Call if you need anything.”

  Humphrey grinned before kissing Jacey. She returned it. They lingered there for another minute before Humphrey broke free. “Go. But don’t tell me where you plan to hide. I’ll do what I can to stall the senator, and it’s easier for me to lie if I’m telling the truth.”

  Jacey gave him one last kiss, then fled from the office, cursing the situation that kept her from spending the time she needed with him.

  She shoved Humphrey from her thoughts. What she had to do next was miserable work and lingering on her own problems wouldn’t make it any easier.

  9

  I Wish I Could See a Real Dog

  The classroom building stood next to Girls’ Hall on the far edge of the quad. Like all buildings on campus, wide windows let in Caribbean breezes.

  The girls stood sweating before their desks in the still air. Each desk was a pane of glass set atop height-adjustable legs. Socrates had always insisted that Scions stand during their lessons, claiming it improved their cognition.

  Wanda, Jacey’s Second, stood at a desk in the front of the class, facing toward the other girls. If things had been normal, Jacey would have been in that position. But things were anything but normal, and the day-to-day management of Jacey’s Nine had fallen to Wanda who, at sixteen, was a year behind Jacey.

  Upon seeing Jacey, Wanda moved her hand reflexively to her Eagle pin, checking to make sure it was correctly positioned. It was.

  Jacey figured she owed Wanda some sort of explanation, since she hadn’t been to Girls’ Hall for several days.

  “I need to take Summer out of class,” she told Wanda in a whisper.

  Wanda’s red locks were always slipping loose from her ponytail and falling over her eyes. She blew them away absently and nodded. She didn’t ask anything, though her expression did.

  Jacey wanted to tell the girl what was going on. Wanda was the only one of them who knew they were clones, but she didn’t yet know about the mind transfer part. Jacey wanted to tell all of the Scions the truth about their lives. But now wasn’t the time.

  “It’s too hot in here for full uniforms,” Jacey said to Wanda. “After I’ve left, send the girls to change into exercise clothes. Let them wear them until the breezes return.”

  Relief softened Wanda’s face. “Thank you.”

  Jacey moved down the aisle, stopping next to the youngest girl in her Nine. Livy was doll-like, with blond curls and wide green eyes. Despite her age, the nine-year-old’s expression could be very grave, as it was now.

  Jacey patted her back. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”

  “Good. I’m learning a lot from Newton. He’s very friendly.”

  Newton’s small holographic avatar crossed his arms and looked down his nose at Livy. “She’s very intelligent. Has a good head for figures.”

  “Are you coming back to Girls’ Hall tonight?” Livy asked Jacey. “I want to tell you a poem I wrote for you.”

  The question caught Jacey off-guard. She didn’t know where she was spending the night. So much depended on Summer.

  “I’m not sure. But even if I don’t stay, I’ll try to stop by. I’d love to hear your poem.”

  Livy seemed satisfied with that. Jacey kissed her head and continued down the aisle, making a show of checking the girls’ sigil pins. They were perfect, of course. Wanda was doing an excellent job.

  At fourteen, Summer was pretty with raven hair pulled into a ponytail according to school dress code. In evenings at Girls’ Hall—when it was permissible to wear it down—Summer’s hair fell like a silky black curtain across her face and shoulders. She was slender, olive-skinned, and had large, brown eyes that constantly glimmered as if on the verge of tearing up. When Summer was happy, those eyes and her pert nose made her as adorable as a baby animal. When angry, she tended to grin humorlessly, like a nymph intent on some mischief.

  Today, she wore a cutely curious expression. It broke Jacey’s heart to have to bring fear into those eyes.

  Summer was deep in conversation with another iteration of Newton. He was going over some aspect of math that Jacey had never been taught. It involved a lot of numbers, parentheses, and arcane symbols. Next to it was a three-dimensional image of a bridge spanning a chasm. Summer adjusted her calculations and studied the design.

  “I think that’ll work,” she told Newton. “Let’s drive the truck across.”

  A vehicle pulling a boxy trailer behind it appeared and zoomed silently from behind the floating calculations. Summer tensed as it approached her bridge.

  “It’s going to make it,” she said.

  The truck zoomed across and disappeared into nothingness on the other side.

  “Excellent work, Summer,” Newton said. “Your choice of materials concerned me at first, but you have a natural insight into forces and support structures.”

  Summer beamed. “That one was easy.”

  “Excuse me, Newton,” Jacey said. “I need to take Summer out of class.”

  He twisted his lips in obvious disapproval. Jacey thought Vaughan was playing the role a bit too on the nose. He said nothing before disappearing in a waft of mist.

  Summer and Jacey had always had a somewhat strained relationship. Over the past few days, Jacey had flaunted school rules and had, temporarily at least, completely lost her reputation when Dr. Carlhagen had accused her and Vaughan of an impropriety in the bell tower. Since Sarah’s death, Summer had become a little more cooperative.

  Very little.

  “Come with me, Summer.”

  Summer hesitated, then snatched her reader from the desk and followed Jacey. She kept glancing at her expectantly as they walked across the quad. Jacey tried to keep her face passive so as not to cause alarm, but the effort seemed silly considering what she was about to tell the girl.

  “What is it?” Summer asked.

  “I have to show you something. In the medical ward.”

  “Is it Vaughan? Belle says he blames himself for Sarah’s death. Because he couldn’t get to her in time.”

  Jacey ignored the propaganda Belle had been spreading. “This isn’t about Vaughan. It’s something else, and it has to do with you.”

  Summer licked her lips and hugged her elbows. “It’s not a bad result on one of my medical tests is it?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  I wish that’s all it was . . .

  ° ° °

  Jacey held the door of the transfer room open for Summer, then let it swing closed with a hushed click. A sense of doom crept over Jacey, as if the door closing somehow committed her to some irrevocable decision she hadn’t even realize she was making.

  The cool air made Summer shiver. She spun in a slow circle, wide-eyed. “What is this place?”

  Everything was a clinical white, the tiled floors, the painted concrete block walls, the ceiling. In the center crouched the transfer machine, two cots pushed head
-to-head inside a sort of hollow wheel. Jacey didn’t know how it worked, but when two people’s heads were inside the wheel, knowledge transferred from one to the other.

  Summer’s eyes locked on the machine. She walked around it, rapped on the wheel, and peered inside. “What is this thing?”

  Jacey rubbed her nose, which itched from the dry, sterile air in the room. It smelled faintly of bleach, probably used to sanitize everything. “This is called the transfer room,” she told Summer. “It’s part of what I wanted to show you. I’ll explain the machine in a minute.”

  She tapped a dark screen on one wall, and it flickered to life. She then pressed play on a video that showed a man training a dog to do tricks. Over the course of the video, the man put the dog that knew tricks into one side of the machine and a dog that didn’t know tricks into the other. At the end of the video, the dog that had known all the tricks was dead, and the other dog now knew all the tricks.

  “Do you understand what you just saw?” Jacey asked.

  “Amazing,” Summer said, smiling broadly. “I wish I could see a real dog.” She hugged her reader to her chest as if it were a dog.

  This was going to be harder than Jacey had thought. “Summer, I didn’t bring you here to show you the dogs. I want to know if you understand what you saw happen to the dogs.”

  “It looked like the knowledge of tricks passed from one dog to the other. They’re sooo adorable! They remind me of—” Summer cleared her throat and looked away.

  Jacey knew why Summer stopped. Girls her age didn’t talk about the stuffed animals they had received at Children’s Villa, didn’t talk about how they’d been forced to burn them on arrival at the Scion School.