Legacy of a Mad Scientist (3 page)

He heaved the desk up over the railing, and it
tumbled to a speck in his vision. He looked at the stained bars and
floor. He felt as if he were standing in a puddle of blood.

Fox stepped out of the stain and over to the clean
side of the patio. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the
device. He called up the data storage interface and deleted the
upload equations.

For a moment, he considered throwing the Micronix
into the ocean, but didn’t. He slipped it into his pocket and
leaned on the railing, inhaling the fresh ocean air.

He stood for a few minutes, just breathing.

When he came back to himself, it took a coordinated
effort to pry his fingers from the bars. He didn't remember
grabbing it, but it seemed as though he'd been locked to it for
hours. His hands were exhausted.

Fox returned inside, closing the patio doors.

On the railing, where he'd placed his hands, two inky
stains spread into the metal, reflecting the pale moonlight.

Angel City, California – Twenty Years Later

Ashley’s Journal, Monday, June 22, 2308

I don’t belong here, on a bus going to summer school,
but here I am, with my little brother. Seven o’clock and it’s
already hot.

You know who goes to summer school? Bullies and
nerds. That’s right, the stupid kids and smart kids. This is where
they meet and establish the relationships in which one group will
persecute the other for the entire year. It feels like such a waste
of time. They’re just out to mold us into tools. I do what they
ask, but they can see it’s too easy. They’re not even bothering to
hold the hoops out anymore.

I’ve asked my dad about moving me ahead a couple of
grades, even just to take the test, to see if I’m ready, but he
says it’s still too early. So it’s another day in the prison
without bars that is my life, more like
zoo
.

Summer session is half advanced placement, half
remedial classes, mixed with a little art, music and sports. Lions
and antelope. It’s a slaughter, every year.

Most parents in this tax-bracket send their kids away
to camp or to visit relatives on hereditary European estates. And
we have to go to camp too, but not
fun
camp. We have to go
to
because it’s good for you
camp.

The fact that I have no input has become something of
a hostile drama at home. I want to go to ballet camp. I have wanted
to go since I was five. I get up an hour early to stretch. I do
three hours of free practice every day before class. But
No
.
For the third summer in a row, I have to go to
Kung Fu Camp
!
Three weeks with a bunch of clumsy, uncoordinated boys. If they
wanted to be good at Kung Fu, they should take ballet. We work so
much harder. They have no idea.

Tonight we’re supposed to
talk
about it. But
what’s the point really? I’ll talk, and he’ll say whatever he’s
going to say and then ignore me, like he always does. Then he’ll
give Geoffrey whatever he wants, and that will be the end of
it.

I just don’t get why he’s being such a dick? He
doesn’t care what I do the rest of the year. Why do these three
weeks have to be caveman training? I’m not a boy. Get over it
already.

On one of the outlying anti-gravity sections, several
thousand feet above the earth, the heavily wooded Rivendell Campus
was far from abandoned. Ashley and Geoff stepped off the bus, with
the few other students, into the morning haze. The air was muggy
and still, warming as the obscured sun cooked off the cloud
cover.

Walking away from the shuttle, Ash and Geoff noticed
Ted across the playground. A few of the older boys had surrounded
him. They pushed him and tried to wrestle away his book bag.
Derrick was the most intimidating, but he could be nice if you got
him alone. The same could be said of Pete. Steve, however, was the
most vicious of the group. Ashley suspected he was responsible for
most the trouble they got into.

Ashley looked at the few nearby adults who ignored
the incident. Geoff watched her closely, as he always did. Ashley
caught Geoff looking at her with puppy-dog eyes.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked.

“Stop them,” Geoff replied.

“Geoff, come on? Are you serious?”

“What,” Geoff asked, “Are you going to tell a
teacher?”

Steve slapped Ted hard enough to make him
whimper.

“They don’t care at all,” Geoff gestured to the
adults, none more than fifty feet away, a few much closer. They
were all preoccupied with other children or each other.

Steve punched Ted in the stomach.

“They’re always picking on him, Ash.”

Ashley sighed, handed Geoff her bag and marched
toward the snarling knot of children.

Without making eye contact, Ashley pushed through the
bullies and grabbed Ted by the collar, almost as if she meant him
more harm than the other three.

A look of fear shot across Ted's face.

Ashley smiled. She spun and hurled him from the
group. Ted stumbled and lost his bag but didn't fall.

A couple of adults turned his way, but he
straightened up and walked across the playground without looking
back. At least, not until he reached Geoff, where together they
watched from a safe distance.

Ashley turned to face Derrick, Pete and Steve.

Ted's bag lay on the ground between Ash and the
boys.

Pete saw they had drawn the attention of at least one
playground supervisor and took a step back.

Derrick stood his ground but said nothing.

Steve smiled and stepped forward. “What do you want,
Fox?”

“I want Ted’s backpack,” Ashley said, gesturing to
the pack lying between them.

“You do, huh? Well it ain’t yours, is it?” Steve
said.

“It’s not yours either.”

“Well, Ted… See, him and I…”

“He and I,” Ashley interrupted.

“What’s that?” Steve asked.

“It’s not Him and I, It’s He and I, or Him and me,
but never Him and I. That’s why you’re in summer school, you
dumbass.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Steve
asked.

Ashley rolled her eyes and reached for the
backpack.

Steve lunged at her and shouted, “Hey! I was talking
at you!”

Ashley involuntarily jumped back, frightened.

Ash straightened up, “To.”

“What?”

“Talking to, not at,” she said.

“Is that so?” Steve towered over the bag. Even though
he and Ashley were the same height, he seemed so much taller than
her. “Like I said, I was talking to Ted a minute ago, but now I’m
talking to you! You interrupted me and Ted, Him and Me, from our
little conversation.”

“I saw how you were talking
to
him,” Ash said.
The moment seemed to slow down into slow motion.

Steve was the most ruthless bully in Ashley’s class.
Some of the adults had turned their heads and were now watching,
but no one was close enough to stop him from hitting her, if he
wanted to. And now she was in the process of antagonizing him. She
could not stop herself, her mouth was already moving, her lungs
giving life to her thoughts. Ashley watched, from some frozen place
inside her mind; calm, cool and relaxed, fully aware of what she
was willfully doing.

“Are you going to say the same kind of things to me?
You should really think it through. Picking on Ted is one thing,
but now you’re going to hit a girl?“ She smiled her most sarcastic,
condescending smile.

The moment stretched on, just hanging.

She waited for Steve to strike her; she was daring
him, taunting him.
Did he have the guts to hit a girl, with half
a dozen adults in view?

He did.

Ashley saw his body tense; she saw his hand fly
toward her face. She instinctively shifted her posture, leaning
back and to her right.

His hand sailed past, missing her by half an inch.
Steve’s balance was off, and he stumbled, first to the side and
then backward, as if afraid Ashley might take a swing at him.

Ashley noticed the teachers were turning away
again.

Suddenly she understood the situation. Unless Steve
had seriously hurt Ted, it would be difficult for the teachers to
sufficiently punish him. In order to suspend him, or expel him
preferably; he’d have to genuinely hurt someone.

Ashley had no intention of being that someone.

Steve narrowed his eyes.

Ted’s bag again lay directly between them, only a
step away for either of Steve or Ashley. Ashley knew that if she
went for it, Steve would jump her, so she waited. She shifted her
weight and took half a step backward, as if she were giving up.

Steve boldly stepped up and reached for the
backpack.

Just a fraction of a second later, Ashley stepped
forward, reaching for the bag, knocking into Steve with her
forehead.

From a distance, it looked as if it was an accident,
but Steve caught the wicked grin that flashed across her face. He
crumpled to the ground, blood gushing from his smashed nose,
painting his baby-blue school shirt a glossy crimson. The sun broke
through the haze, illuminating his humiliation in sharp, sarcastic
hues.

Ash picked up the bag.

To his credit, Steve didn't cry. He sat on the curb,
pinched the top of his nose and waited for the pain to subside. He
didn't acknowledge her in any way. Ashley realized he'd probably
dealt with this type of injury before. She turned and walked away,
saying nothing.

Every kid, and every adult on the playground had
their eyes glued to her. Ashley acknowledged none of them. She
looked only at Ted and Geoff. They watched as she handed Ted his
backpack. Ashley put her arm around her brother, and the three of
them walked into school.

Ash acknowledged the layered irony in that, moments
before, she had been
angry
about the
violent
techniques she would spend the next few weeks studying. Yet here
she had used violence, and if she were honest with herself, she had
enjoyed it.

Later that afternoon, Ashley entered the dance
studio, and a few snickering girls went quiet. Ash acknowledged the
obvious awkwardness but didn’t comment on it.

Rebecca stepped forward from their center and sneered
at Ashley. "Hey, ground-pounder, heard you beat up Steve Shepard
this morning. Must be tough, being a dirt dweller, if even the
girls can kick your ass."

The girls surrounding Becca laughed openly.

"It was an accident," Ashley answered. "And if it
wasn't, do you think teasing me is a good idea?"

Rebecca, or Becca, had always been second in their
class. None of the girls compared to Ash. She eclipsed them so
entirely it made her something of an outcast.

Because of the open hostility between the girls,
Ashley didn't take her free practice in the studio, but rather in
the abandoned theatre. She had enjoyed the last three hours
stretching and practicing in silence, while Becca and the others
had occupied the cramped studio.

Ash walked past her, but Becca wasn’t finished.

"We just want to know your secret? Do you practice a
lot at home, dancing around all the bugs?"

Ashley's piercing blue eyes glared at Becca. "Are you
saying there are bugs in my house?"

"Well, I wouldn't know, I've never set foot on that
filthy dirt ball." Becca shared a malicious smile with her
friends.

The gaggle confronting Ashley all lived in the
hovering districts of Angel City, while her family lived on the
ground. It wasn't that her parents were poor. In fact, her family
was wealthier than most of her friends combined, but Ashley had no
way of knowing that. Her father claimed that he preferred living
close to the earth. He wanted his children to know the beauty of
living under real trees. Over and over again, he had explained that
city people always felt uncomfortable in the forest. It was vital
to him that his children feel comfortable in nature.

Ash stood before the laughing girls. She paused for a
moment and tempered her rage before replying. "Becca, if you're
pissed at me because I'm a little better than you, you're gonna be
mad at people all your life."

Rebecca flushed with anger.

Several girls caught their breath, a couple said,
"Ouch," or "Oooo."

The room fell quiet as their instructor, Mrs. Rabier
entered. She ignored the confrontation and gestured for the
girls to line up at the bar and begin their stretches.

The girls shuffled, stumbled and dragged themselves
across the hardwood floor, except for Ashley, who glided over to an
empty spot at the rail. She couldn't help the fact that she was a
better dancer than Becca and the others. She always had been. It
was obvious in her walk. All the girls worked hard, but none of
them compared to Ashley's grace and economy of movement.

Simply put, and although she did not know it, Ashley
was a better dancer because her father had created her that way.
She was, like her brother, Geoff, her Father’s legacy. Dr. Andrew
Fox represented the razor's edge of genetic manipulation and
cybernetic engineering. He had created Ashley to be perfect, and
his creations always exceeded expectations.

After class, Mrs. Rabier asked Ashley to stay behind.
Becca and her friends noticed but said nothing.

Ashley waited patiently.

Mrs. Rabier let the door close, looked Ashley in the
eye and said, "You need to make a decision. Until you face it, and
see the world for what it is, it's going hold you back. You don't
have to answer what I'm about to say, but I'd like you to think
about it."

Ashley nodded.

"I heard about what happened between you and Steven
Shepard this morning."

Ashley remained mute.

"They said you broke his nose. Is that true?" the
ballet teacher asked.